No Place Left To Fall
by flashpenguin
Summary: In 1986, Dave Rossi watched the military execution of a serial killer who threatened to get even. Now the past has come back to haunt and threatens Dave's life and security, and expose a secret that could destroy his and Em's careers.
1. Prologue

_**I wanted to try my hand at suspense and revenge. So, as a result this story came to me while I was trying to fall asleep. Here is the premise: Say Dave Rossi was the chief investigator in a military crime that resulted in the conviction and subsequent execution of a serial killer? And what if that action caused the past to come back to haunt Dave even though he had moved on with his life and career? What if it threatened not only Dave's life, but his security, job, and world?**_

_**The following story is based on two cases: Military and civilian. And although the military does give the option of lethal injection, no military member has been executed since 1961. And this story in no way condemns or condones the death penalty.**_

_**I don't own Criminal Minds. Any discrepancies on the part of UCMJ and State Penal Codes/Laws and Statutes are all mine.**_

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

_Place: U.S. Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. September 1986_

_Time: 1944 Military Standard Time_

_The chamber was being set up for the first execution in ten years. The crisp white walls, the gleaming stainless steel equipment, and the various medical personnel could make one think that the room was nothing more than an operating room. At least until one took a second glance at the clock with military time and the red phone on the wall._

_Or maybe it could have been the tempered clear glass wall, currently covered by a green curtain that showed the two rows of chairs on the other side. Chairs that would soon be filled with witnesses hand-picked by the convening military panel._

_Four military officers stood outside in the hallway quietly waiting the final word on their prisoner. A habeus relief against the Article III Judiciary had been filed to try to halt the execution even though the president had approved and signed off on the affirmative order._

_Suddenly the phone rang, breaking the eerie silence. Stepping forward, one of the officers answered and listened patiently; his face never betraying what was being said on the other end. Twice he replied, "Yes, sir." Replacing the receiver, he turned to the other officers and nodded._

_As two broke away to get the prisoner, the two remaining stepped into the chamber to notify the medical personnel that the "go ahead to proceed" had been given._

_On the outside of the room, the twelve witnesses were lead in. Having been briefed to remain silent and not discuss the proceedings, the men and women took their seat and waited._

_From inside the room, a flurry of activity got the machines up and running as the prisoner was escorted inside. Shackled at the wrists and ankles and dressed in a green prison jumpsuit, the prisoner was helped onto the gurney. Positioned in accordance to the procedure, his wrists were uncuffed and immediately bound by the leather straps. Quickly the same was done for his ankles._

_Swiftly and efficiently, his arm was prepped for the needle that would ultimately deliver the mixture of potassium chloride, sodium thiopental, and Pavulon to knock him out and then stop his breathing and heart in that order. Once the needle was secure, the commanding officer gave a nod to the attending who opened the curtains._

_Not a sound was said as the prisoner and witnesses watched each other's moves._

_Glancing at the clock, the commanding officer counted off the seconds and then turned to the prisoner who was lying prone on the gurney._

_"In accordance with military regulations, it is hereby acknowledge that James Lee Gifford has been tried and found guilty of violation of **UCMJ Articles 118, 119, 120, 120A, 122, 124, 125,** and **128** in the deaths of Anna Johnson, Marie Franks, Colleen Demarest, Sara Tinesdale, Kimberly Escrot, Jennifer Salazar, and Martina Paisley. In accordance by military regulations, you were tried and found guilty by a jury of your peers."_

_No words were uttered by the prisoner. The officer continued his spiel._

_"In accordance with the UCMJ and Federal Law regulations, you were sentenced to death. As of 1800 hours, your request for Habeas Relief was rejected and the death warrant signed on 05 September 1986 by the Honorable Ronald Wilson Reagan, President of the United States remains in effect. By the power of the Attorney General of the United States, I have been appointed to oversea the execution until you are deemed dead. Do you understand the charges against you?"_

_"I do," was Gifford's reply._

_"Any last words?"_

_As the gurney was raised for the witnesses to get a better look, James Lee Gifford scanned the crowd until he rested his gaze on one person. The corner of his mouth twitched in anger and his eyes gleamed hatred._

_"You son of a bitch!" he growled. "Bet you think you got the best of me because I'm lying here? You haven't beaten me! You're not that smart!"_

_The signal was given to begin the procedure. Determined to get the last word in before the drugs took effect, Gifford shouted out: "Damn you Agent Rossi! I will see you in hell! Believe me, you will get yours!"_

_As the drug took effect, Gifford leaned back and closed his eyes. Within seconds his breathing became laboured. Another signal started the last two drugs that would ultimately cause death._

_Ten minutes later the attending physician lay the stethoscope against Gifford's chest. Twice he tried to locate signs of life. Finding none, he straightened and nodded to the commanding officer. "Time of death is 2005."_

_A sheet was placed over the deceased as the preparations for his removal were put into action. In the witness chamber, the twelve witnesses were escorted out and once again reminded to not address the media._

_Taking one last look at the white sheet, FBI Agent David Rossi tried to analyze the last twenty minutes of his life and the curse shouted his way. It was nothing he hadn't heard before from condemned prisoners who tried to use the last remaining moments of their life to spread intimidation and fear even from the grave._

_He didn't know why it caused goose-bumps, but he wasn't going to let it control his life. Turning away, he followed the group outside. By the time he got to the van, Dave had put the threat completely out of his mind._


	2. Chapter 2

_So, that is where the story starts. But life goes on and Dave had much more serious matters to worry about in his career and life. One threat out of a dozens is nothing to stay awake pondering. So, now it's present day and Dave Rossi is doing what he does best: catching criminals. But the past is lurking out there just waiting to catch up. This beginning might seem full of fluff, but considering where I'm thinking about taking it…well, it's not a bad thing._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**No Place Left To Fall**

_Place: Virginia_

_Time: Present Day_

Dave Rossi opened the cabinet and took down the Folger's canister. The morning had come too quickly and it was definitely going to be a three cup day. Opening the lid, he sighed. No coffee.

"Prentiss!" he called out.

Straightening her blouse, Emily looked around the corner. _Uh-oh!_ Dave only called her Prentiss when something had gone wrong or she was in trouble. "Yes?"

"I thought you were going to pick up coffee yesterday."

Stepping into the kitchen, Em looked at him. "No, you were going to pick up coffee. I picked it up last time."

"But you were out yesterday."

"I was out of town yesterday," Em corrected. "Besides, I wrote a list of things to get. I left it on the table."

"You should have called me."

Em wrapped her arms around Dave's neck. "I know better than to interrupt your writing when the muse has hold of you. And even if I had remembered last night, after I got home, you had me thinking about other things that were more rejuvenating than caffeine."

Dave gave a heavy sigh. "What a helluva way to start a Monday." His hands stroked her back lazily. "I hope this isn't a sign of things to come."

"Missing out on your morning coffee isn't the end of the world," Em replied while nuzzling his neck. "There are other ways of getting a morning pick-me-up."

"Are you starting something you know we can't finish?" he murmured against her hair.

"Never. I figured that since you don't have java to get your heart pumping, I can at least try another way."

"You're doing a pretty good job."

"Since both of our hearts are racing, and we do have a few minutes, how about we finish what we started and I'll spring for the coffee when we get to work?"

Picking her up, he glanced at the wall clock. Less than an hour to have breakfast in bed and get to work. It would be a close call, but he lived for deadlines.

"You got yourself a deal, Miss Prentiss." Covering her mouth with his, quickstepped it to the bedroom and closed the door.  
_

Stepping in front of Rossi's desk, Prentiss dropped off the coffee. "Here you go; two sugars, one cream."

Taking it from her hand, he lifted the lid and took a sip. A little late in arriving, but surely worth the wait. "How much do I owe you?"

Prentiss laughed softly. "After this morning, I think I might be buying you coffee for quite sometime."

"I might just forget to pick up coffee today."

"Don't you dare! At least not on purpose; we both need coffee."

Rossi took another sip and placed the cup on the desk. "I talked to Hotch this morning and it looks as though another team is going to be on stand by this weekend. We may be able to get to the cabin."

"Mudgie will definitely be looking forward to that. I know I will. I need to get out of the city for a while, and it will help you to relax. You've been a little stressed." Prentiss sat down on the corner of the desk.

"It's this deadline. And Strauss is breathing down my neck about getting time off for the book tour in October."

"You always take time off in October. And it's not as though you are costing the Bureau anything."

Rossi started to respond when JJ knocked on the door. "Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt, but Hotch wants us down in the meeting room. Looks like a bad one."

Prentiss stood up, gave Dave a knowing look, and followed JJ. Leaving his coffee cup, Dave followed the women out of the room.  
_

JJ handed out the file folders to the team. Picking up the remote, she clicked it on. The crime scene photo of a nude female came on the screen. Her hands and feet bound, her throat cut, it was obvious that she was dead.

"Celeste Behmer. She disappeared three days ago while going for a jog. No one suspected anything until her husband tried to call her and received no answer. A search party was initiated and yesterday her remains were found about five miles from where she was last seen."

"Where was her husband?" Morgan asked.

"He's currently stationed overseas in Iraq. He tries to call her every Saturday. When he kept calling and got no answer, he called his mother in law. She found the house empty and called the MP's."

"They are military?" Rossi asked.

"Yes. Master Sergeant Behmer is stationed at Bolling Air Force Base. He's in the middle of a 14 month tour. The military is transporting him home; he should be back later today."

"Dave, I want you and Morgan to talk to him when he gets back," Hotch appointed.

Rossi took a moment, and scrutinized the photo more closely. "She's hog-tied."

"Coroner says that she was that way during the rape. He also sodomized her. Then he cut her throat."

"Nice guy," Prentiss remarked dryly.

"I've see this before," Rossi responded. The team watched him as he continued. "In 1984 there was a rash of killings on two bases: one in Wyoming and one in Missouri. Seven women were kidnapped, raped, sodomized, and murdered. Two were even maimed to the point that they could only be identified by dental records."

"Did they catch the guy?" Morgan asked.

Rossi nodded. "They caught him alright. Actually, I was the one who flushed out his profile and thru that, we discovered his MO. I helped set up the decoy that ultimately lead to his capture, trial, and execution."

"James Lee Gifford!" Reid spoke up. "I read about it when I was fourteen. That case is what made me want to pursue Criminal Psychology. He was the ultimate serial killer. Probably even more dangerous than Ted Bundy."

"More dangerous than Bundy?" Prentiss scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, Bundy bragged to having killed a hundred women, but estimates have it at around thirty-five. But in the end, Bundy was actually executed for the kidnap/slaying of Kimberly Leach. Gifford was executed for all seven women he murdered."

"That's rare."

"It's the military. Since he was enlisted, the states turned him over for a court-martial. He was found guilty of violating eight UCMJ Articles. He was the last person the military put to death."

"You wrote about that case in your second book," Reid excitedly responded. "You were the star witness in the trial. It was your testimony that put him on death row."

"I was," Rossi replied and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Didn't he threaten to get even with you?"

Rossi started to speak when Hotch jumped in. "That's enough Reid. Was there anything else, JJ?"

"Two more bodies were discovered over the past three weeks. Ensign Michelle Brown and Seaman Apprentice Maggie Thiennes."

"Why weren't we notified?" Hotch asked.

"The military kept it under wraps. They considered it a need to know."

"Sounds like the military," Rossi commented.

"In the case of Maggie Thiennes, she disappeared while on base rounds at the Washington Navy Yard. When she didn't show up for the 0345 shift change, it was assumed that she deserted her post. A week later Shore Patrol was informed of a stench coming from a crate near the dock. Investigators found the remains of Maggie. She had been hog-tied, raped, and her throat cut." She clicked to pull up the image.

"For Ensign Brown, she was on a 96 hour stand down. It wasn't until she didn't report for duty that it was discovered she was missing." JJ displayed photos of the victim's home. "There was no sign of forced entry. Nothing was out of place when the CID arrived."

"What makes CID think Ensign Brown was murdered and didn't just go AWOL?" Prentiss asked.

JJ clicked the remote. "Her body was found on the golf course two days later. Bound, raped, and throat cut."

"Copy-cat," Morgan observed. "Or this guy's damn good."

"But why?"

"Good question," Hotch remarked. "I guess now that Celeste Behmer was murdered the military thinks that the cases might be related."

JJ nodded. "Yes. The base commander for McNair and the Commanding Officer for the Navy Shipyard will be arriving in an hour to be briefed where the investigation stands."

"Why are we getting involved? It's a military case. It doesn't warrant the FBI to solve," Morgan questioned. "They have their own criminal divisions to help in the investigations."

"Because Ensign Brown's father is Admiral Jeffrey Stanford Brown, Commanding Officer CINCPACFLEET and is close friends with Director Strauss. All hell has broken loose with the murder of his only daughter," Hotch commented and closed the folder.

"I don't want to be here when that happens," Prentiss said and closed her folder.

"Actually, Prentiss, since you have experience in the field of dignitaries and military protocol, I will be requiring your presence."

Rossi winked at her grimace. He knew how much she hated the political scene -especially when it came to high military brass.

Standing up, Prentiss checked her watch. "I have just enough time to get a cup of coffee and make myself presentable."

"I'll go with you," JJ offered. Together the women left the room.

"Morgan, check on the ETA of Master Sergeant Behmer's flight. As soon as he lands, let me know. Dave, see if you can contact the local authorities about getting the victims' computers and have Garcia go thru them." Hotch stood up. "Reid, come with me. I might have you sit in on the meeting if nothing else, to analyze the situation. We are going to need all the help we can get to stop this guy before he strikes again."

All four men left the room and went their respective way. Walking up the stairs to his office, Dave was approached by Garcia.

"Hi boss," she greeted with a wide smile.

Taking in her flowery dress with the paisley shawl, the sparkly butterfly clips in her hair, and the bright pink nail polish on her nails, Rossi felt himself begin to relax. In the beginning he hadn't quite known what to make of the outlandish computer genius who dressed outrageously but fainted at the sight of blood. But over time, he came to appreciate her outlook on life, and he looked forward to the way she brightened his day. Her positive outlook was amazingly intact considering her job.

Though he would never come out and tell her, Rossi anticipated the "Garcia moments" as he would like to call them.

"What's up Garcia? Any news on the cases we're working on?"

"Unfortunately, I have hit a brick wall, but considering I only started digging about 30 seconds ago, that could all change."

"I have no doubt."

"By the way, I ran into Teddy the mail room guy -he has the largest alternative music library of anyone I've ever known. And his taste in books and movies is unlike any guy I've ever known. He asked me out, but I'm not sure, I mean, isn't it too soon after breaking up with Kevin?"

Not sure whether to be amused or aggravated by Garcia's rant, Rossi decided on a neutral tone as he interrupted her. "How am I connected to the guy in the mailroom?"

Garcia reached into the manila folder she was holding. "He gave this to me to give you. It's registered, so I hope you don't mind that I signed for it. It looks important."

Rossi took the cream colored envelope and glanced at the return address. _Kansas City?_ He didn't know anyone in Kansas City. The time stamp had it mailed five days prior.

"Thanks Garcia. We might be bringing in the victims' computers. We'll need everything we can get off of them."

"No problem boss." Sensing the change in Rossi, Garcia didn't try to push him further. "Let me know when they arrive." Turning around, she flounced off.

Rossi went into his office and closed the door. Sitting down, he opened the desk and extracted the letter opener. Carefully ripping the edges, he tapped lightly. A white folded piece of paper fell into his lap. Lifting it up, he unfolded it. Blinking, it took a few scans for the words to sink in.

Crudely cut out from magazines, newspapers, and books, various letters were arranged to spell out:

**"Agent Rossi, Do you think I would let you forget how you framed me? Now it's your turn for justice."**

Dave didn't know how long he had sat staring at the paper. The memory of the execution and the last words Gifford had shouted suddenly came back.

Noticing the coffee Prentiss had brought earlier, Rossi reached for it and took a long sip. It had long since grown cold, but it something to help calm his nerves. _Dear God, was the past coming back to haunt? It wasn't possible. But what if-?_

A knock on the door and Morgan stepped in. "Hate to bother you, but Master Sergeant Behemer is going to be flying in from Atlanta in about 45 minutes and Hotch wants us to escort him to his residence to pick up the computers. Are you alright?"

Rossi tried to cover quickly. "Bad coffee." Folding the letter, he placed it back in its casing and shoved it into his inside jacket pocket. "You ready to go?"

"Ready when you are. I think we have time to get you a new coffee."

"Sounds good." Rossi tossed the cup into the wastebasket and walked out the door with his partner.


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, the good news is that Paget is staying. Unfortunately that means AJ is leaving. I would like to think that all of this happened for a reason- however twisted that reason might be. But it's nice to know that we showed CBS that we don't take things lying down and we will be heard. Thanks to everyone who stepped up!_

_On to the story: This UNSUB is one sick bastard! Revenge is what drives him but will it be enough to make Dave drop his guard? But the UNSUB isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants: David Rossi._

_I don't own Criminal Minds - though if the PTB want to surrender control, I won't say no._

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

Light from a single 40 watt bulb hanging from the ceiling filled the empty dark space he called home. Never one to sit back and wait for things to come to him, he had a job to do. Actually, he had to right a wrong. For too many years his father's name had been dragged thru the mud because of one man. David Rossi. Famed FBI profiler and best selling author. Just thinking the name made him want to vomit.

He had read the book David Rossi had written about his father. How could it be legal for that man to make money off of his father while he and his mother had barely scraped by? There had to be some kind of law against that, right?

Clipping out letters from the various magazines that littered his work table, he carefully arranged them on the cream colored letter size paper. His threat wasn't specific for he didn't want to scare David Rossi- just give him enough of a jolt to keep looking over his shoulder. And when David Rossi was busy looking over one shoulder that is when he would make his move.

Lightly brushing the clear glue over the collage of letters, he let his mind wander a little over what he would do when he finally came face to face with the man who helped put his father to death. Should he give the FBI guy a chance to beg for mercy? His father never begged for mercy. But then again every man had his breaking point and it would be something to see a larger than life figure wallowing around wanting redemption.

Holding the letter up, he blew on it to hasten the drying of the glue - his mind wandering to the last three killings. And he smiled. The first two had been so easy. Tradition was the one thing he could count on the Navy having and after 200 years, they still had no problem putting one person on pier sentry watch. And they still kept them unarmed. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel disgusted that the military had no qualms about leaving an unarmed female on a pier in the middle of the night. In a way, he considered it a gift.

She never knew what happened. But once he settled her down, he managed to convince her that once he was finished he would let her go. All of the anger he had built up over the years was taken out on her. After a while he had to gag her because her screams for her mother was hurting his head. She was his own little play toy and he kept her for two days. He would like to say he felt a little guilt as the knife slid across her throat, but he didn't. In fact, it turned him on.

Disposing of her remains was pretty easy. Another pier sentry who was unable to leave their post made it possible for him to drop the crate off near the pier. Labeled crudely enough to not warrant suspicion, he left his first kill's remains and made a clean get away.

The second kill was almost random. Driving by, he had seen her get out of her car. Was it fate or luck that she would drop her purse, spilling the contents all over the lawn? Stopping the car, he got out to help her -straight into his vehicle. Funny how some people had no qualms about cooperating when a threat was whispered in their ear.

He kept her for three days. She was a tough one. Defiant, rude, and threatening. She also had quite the mouth on her. When she revealed that her old man was a three star Admiral, it was no wonder she could take everything he gave her. But in the end, like the other, she broke down and begged for mercy. Her last words were calls for her mother and father in between sobs. He was almost sad to see her go.

Again, a lapse in security made it possible for him to dispose of her in an area that would not only embarrass her in death, but her father in life. Seeing her lying there naked on the golf course was too tempting to pass. She had been such a bitch toward him, so he took that last opportunity to defile her even in death.

Then he sat and waited for the news to jump on the murders. But nothing came. A week. Then two weeks. It was like the military to cover up for their own. He thought that the murder and defiling of an admiral's daughter would have been enough for the military to bring in the FBI, but they swept it under the rug and tried to keep it quiet. Well, he had revenge to dish out, and he needed to bring his prey in closer. The first two kills had been for his father. The third one was for him.

Young, beautiful, athletic, and a complete fighter, she tried to get a couple of good shots in. But he had had enough of women trying to get the upper hand. Hog-tying her, he kept her that way as he did things that were illegal in all fifty states. She was good, but he didn't keep her long. She wasn't a prize, she was revenge.

As he tossed her out of the car trunk, and threw her in an area he knew the search party would eventually discover, he thought about how his life had come to this. It was inevitable that a son would follow in his father's footsteps. Only he had a purpose: he was going to clear his old man's name by destroying another man's name.

Coming out of his reverie, he folded the letter and placed it in its respective envelope. Carefully he addressed it to FBI Agent David Rossi. Finished, he leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head. It was all coming together. And now that he had time to think about it, he really didn't feel guilty about those women; they lost their lives because of one man. The sin and guilt belonged to David Rossi. Alone.  
********

Day two into the investigation, and the team was hitting a brick wall. Master Sergeant Behmer and his mother could provide nothing that would indicate that Celeste knew her killer. The subsequent scan of her computer revealed nothing out of the ordinary - except she did spend a lot of time on instant messenger and loved to play internet games on Face Book.

So, no one was surprised when her profile came back clean. Of course, that didn't make the investigation any easier. Although as much as the team would like to complain about the lack of evidence, none of them envied Hotch and Prentiss who had to debrief the two commanding officers.

If that wasn't enough, Erin Strauss was present through the whole debriefing. Hotch tried his best to explain that there wasn't much at the moment to go on, and the team was going to be working over time to profile and catch the UNSUB responsible. But that fell on deaf ears. It was understandable that tempers would be short and emotions on high, but Strauss putting her two cents in did nothing to ease the moment. She was of the mindset that Hotch was incompetent -as was his team- and she made no bones about suggesting that the case be handled by another FBI team.

Prentiss could handle a lot of things, but the flagrant disrespect of her superior officer in front of military brass was uncalled for in her eyes. It took a lot for her to lose her temper, but this time she gave it freely. And willingly. And when all was said and done, Prentiss had saved the day, saved Hotch's reputation, and put Strauss firmly, but respectively back in her place: in the background.

Now that the team had the full cooperation of the Navy and Army, things were running more smoothly, but that didn't mean they were any closer to finding their UNSUB or a motive. Three different women on two different bases in the course of three weeks. One enlisted, one officer, one military dependent. Very unusual choice of victims since most killers liked to focus on a certain type: blonde or prostitute or adolescent. Very rarely did an UNSUB randomly kill victims so completely different.

And another act he committed completely flummoxed the team: he had raped Ensign Brown and Seaman Thieness post mortem, yet he had not touched Celeste Behmer. It was if he was trying to tell them something -maybe giving a clue into his identity, but they were missing it.

DNA was still waiting back on Celeste, but the results had come back on the first two victims as a match. Unfortunately, there was no hit in the national data base which now put the team back at square one.

Brain-storming until late into the night for a possible motive, the team called it a day by nine o'clock. One by one they filed to their respective desks and offices to close down.

Rossi watched as Prentiss gathered her purse and coat. He knew that what they were sharing was against the rules, but he had bided by rules and regulations for so long that he decided that it was time to fracture a couple of them.

He knew the rules better than anyone -hell, two of them written because of him- so he knew his way around impositions. But technically what he and Prentiss were doing was not a punishable violation, although it could land a letter of reprimand in their permanent record. But he loved her, and he was willing to sacrifice his reputation and job for her.

As he climbed the stairs to his office, he watched the faces of the other team members. Drawn, sad, angry, and confused colored their expressions. He knew where they were coming from because he had been there many times before. All he could do was provide experience and a guiding hand as they tried to break the case.

Sighing from exhaustion, he turned the knob and stepped into the office. He knew that Prentiss was heading out to her car. Nothing had been spoken, but they knew each other pretty well -that is what made them a helluva team- and right now, appearance was everything especially with a group of highly trained profilers.

He should call her and have her pick something up on the way home. Reaching for his phone, Dave started to dial when a cream colored envelope with a registered card on the desk caught his eye.

Flipping the phone closed, he reached for it and tore it open. The bright letters jumped out at him:

_David Rossi, you can't run! I know the truth! Soon the FBI will too!_

Shaken, Dave scanned the letter for any evidence of who prepared it. Nothing. He thought the first letter was a fluke, but the second one was starting to make him nervous. And that was a hard thing for anyone to do.

Opening the desk drawer, he placed the second letter with the first. He knew he could hide it from Prentiss, but he was going to have to tell Hotch.

His appetite suddenly gone, Dave turned out the light and closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

_It takes a lot to shake Dave up, so this UNSUB is good! Now he has a predicament on his hands because he needs to come clean with Emily and Hotch, but to do so could cause a landslide. Well, we know that Dave can be counted on to do the right thing….on his schedule. Sorry for the "fluffy" chapter, but it's going to propel the story._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**No Place Left To Fall**

Emily collapsed against Dave's chest in ecstasy and exhaustion. Unable to move, she just lay there soaking in the moment. Good lord how she loved him! If anyone had ever told her that Dave Rossi would be her best lover and best friend, she would have laughed her self silly. Now, here she was, lying in his arms, feeling his kisses on her hair and relished in how wonderful life was -for the both of them.

Dave couldn't think -and that was alright for the moment. Still shaken from the second letter, he had arrived home not sure how to approach Emily with the news that he was being stalked. Okay, maybe not stalked in the conventional way, but someone out there was trailing him and his every move. If their intention was to make him uncomfortable, they had succeeded.

She had noticed his drawn features and tired look and tried to talk to him, but all he wanted to do was hold her. Uncomfortable with showing weakness, he admitted deep down inside that Emily was his security blanket. He had not intended on deflecting the conversation -both of their lives could be in jeopardy- but as she plied him with concerned questions, he took that opportunity to kiss her silent.

The fire, always just an ember during the day, flamed to life as he carried her to the bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, he covered her body with his and kissed her until they both couldn't breathe. Breaking away, he rested his head against her neck and hoped that the sob that came out could be misconstrued as trying to catch his breath.

Damn! He could go his whole life without Emily seeing him cry, but as the thought of losing her in more ways than one ran thru his head, he felt his heart constrict painfully. Tightening his arms around her, Dave tried to get his bearings before begging off sex. It was possible that she would be suspicious, but considering the cases the BAU was involved with, it could sound plausible. Besides, he just wanted to hold her.

He barely felt her move out from underneath and kneel on the bed beside him. Gently he felt her fingers press into his shoulders and knead the muscles thru his dress shirt. He started to protest but she hushed him and continued doing what she could to relieve all the bad things making his life hell. As her fingers and fists dug, massaged, and rubbed his rock hard back, he could feel himself slowly beginning to relax.

Lost in the sensation of heaven thru her hands, Dave barely remembered rolling over to his back as she tended to his front. How she got him undressed without his knowledge, he could only guess, but as her hands kneaded, stroked, and caressed him, he didn't care. Every thought, good and bad, went out of his head as she managed to short-circuit his brain.

Reaching for her, he was confused as she pushed his hands away. She whispered that she wanted him to lay back and let her take charge -for once. Therefore, he did.

Closing his eyes, he tried to centre his mind on Em, but the letters tried to nudge their way into his thoughts. Desperate to forget, he wove his hands into her hair as her tongue worked magic in ways he didn't think were possible. Oh God, he needed her! He wanted to surrender himself completely and lose everything inconsequential if it meant that he could still hold on to her.

Just when he thought he couldn't take another moment, she made them one.

Lost in the overpowering sensation of her body locked with his, Dave let her set the pace. Unable to keep up and not really wanting to, Dave let her take the reigns. Closer and closer to the edge she pushed him before dragging him back. It was torture in its sweetest form. If he had to die, he wanted this moment to be his last thought.

_If he had to die? Where the hell had that thought come from?_ Slapping his hands over his eyes to block out the premonition, Dave hoped Em hadn't noticed that he was no longer going along for the ride. Softly he felt her fingers pull against his as she took them away from his face and placed each palm against her soft lips.

Dave felt his eyes well up with tears as she leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Her tongue demanded entrance and he willing gave it to her. Gently she teased and stroked him until he returned in kind. Holding her tight, he thrust upward and set his rhythm. Breathless, Em broke away and tried to keep up.

He loved her so much that he thought it would be his undoing. Moreover, it could very well be, if she ever knew the truth. However, for now, she belonged to him and he would do his best to protect her from the demons from his past. Interlocking his fingers with hers, Dave quickened the pace. She may have started it, but he was going to end it; he needed to feel her beside him whispering that everything was going to be alright. When he woke up from his nightmares, he wanted to feel her warm body beside him.

He'd just had a premonition of his death and a cold chill went thru his body as uncontrollable tears leaked from his closed lids. He couldn't let her see him crying, it would destroy her image of him. And for that, he would rather spend an eternity in hell than break her heart.

Shifting slightly, he made another thrust that took both their breath away as he touched her more deeply than he ever thought possible. He had found heaven. Frenzied movements propelled them to the edge of insanity. With his mouth on hers, they tumbled over the side together.

Now she lay on him, breathing hard, her sweat covered body pressed against his. She started to move off, but he made a noise. It wasn't a no, but more like a '_please stay'_. So she did. Whatever he wanted, she would gladly give if it could make a difference. She knew something was bothering him, and she would get it out of him -or Hotch- eventually. However, for now, she had him and nothing short of death was going to tear him out of her arms.

She loved him, and she would gladly lay her life down in an instant if there were any chance he could be taken from her. She had waited too many years for what they shared tonight and never would she give it up.

Raising her head to place a gentle sweet kiss on Dave's chest, Em caught a tear trailed down his cheek. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that it was totally because of what they shared. Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she breathed in his warm musky masculine scent and closed her eyes. She would ask him tomorrow what was upsetting him and find a way to help without being commanding.

Tonight she had him safely in her arms, and that's where she planned on keeping him. At least until the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

It's all about revenge and this UNSUB is full to the hilt. He is stopping at nothing to make sure he gets Dave where he wants him. He's got the element of surprise on his side. And he is going to do all he can to shake Dave up. Now Dave has to come clean with Hotch, but will that revelation be tied to what is happening now? We can only wait and see. On top of everything else, there is another abduction.

I don't own Criminal Minds.

**No Place Left To Fall**

Parking the car next to the curb, a figure watched from inside. He knew the area well enough to make sure he wasn't calling attention to himself. Plus, he covered his tracks by making sure he asked a couple of people for directions to a certain house in the area. It wouldn't be strange for a car to be wandering around the neighborhood looking for a particular address.

When the cops started asking questions, someone might remember him, but the address he had inquired would be no where near where he was at the moment and it would take a while to piece things together.

Cops were stupid, and Feds weren't any brighter -perhaps more cunning and eager to bend the rules, but law enforcement were nothing but a bunch of power hungry dicks no matter what uniform they wore.

And there was one dick in particular he wanted to make pay. David Rossi. What the hell was taking so long for that man to get a clue? How many people and letters was it going to take to make him drop his guard? It was just like the government to protect their own. They probably had guards on him 24/7. Well, eventually someone was going to trip up and Rossi was going to pay. He figured the least he could do was make him beg and then send him to hell. After all, a life for a life was only fair. Wasn't it?

He watched out of his rear view mirror as a car pulled into the driveway and stop. Engine off, the young woman stepped out and walked over to the trunk. Lifting the lid, she grabbed a couple of plastic bags and stepped back to make her way to the house.

Getting out of the car, he made his way over to her. "Hi!" he greeted.

Struggling to keep the bags stable, she gave him a wary smile. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I saw the flyers around the neighbourhood that you lost your Pug. I think I found your dog."

Her face brightened. "You found Kenny? Where was he? Is he okay?"

"I was driving home a couple nights ago and found him wandering around near the parkway. Little guy was so scared; I picked him up and he peed on me."

"Poor baby. Uh, why didn't you call first?" Her arms were aching from the weight and her cell started ringing. "Oh damn! That's probably my husband. I'm sorry."

"I tried. I got your voicemail. I got him out in the car; you want to come and get him?"

"Uh yeah, sure." She set the bags down. Her ears perked at the noise coming from the back seat. The baby was awake. "There was a reward, I can write you a check unless you want to come by later for it; I will have to go to the bank." She walked ahead of him to the side of his car. Looking in, her look went from ecstatic to flummox. "Where's Kenny?"

"Get inside and no one gets hurt," he commanded then slammed her head against the roof. Dazed, she collapsed into his arms. Quickly he got her inside the back seat and ran around to the driver's side. Looking around he made sure no one was watching. Throwing the car into drive, he made his get away with out any witnesses.

A slight groan came from the back, and he smiled. This was getting too easy. And he liked it.  
******

Aaron Hotchner was so deeply engrossed in the file in his hand he didn't hear the knock on his door. He had spent the morning on the phone with the Admiral Brown press secretary briefing the latest in the case.

Unfortunately, the briefing was short since nothing new had been uncovered. Everyone involved had hit a brick wall, but it would be unprofessional to tell an admiral that they were bested by a cunning and brilliant UNSUB. So, Hotch explained that as soon as anything new came to light, he would be contacting the admiral.

Hanging up the phone, he picked up the three files and perused them relentlessly trying to find that elusive clue. Every UNSUB left something behind to tell who they were: whether it was DNA, fingerprints, or other evidence…everyone had a calling card. The game was to find where it was left.

Looking at the photo of Celeste Behmer, he studied it until his eyes crossed. What was the one thing they were missing?  
*****

Rossi watched his friend and co-worker studying the file. He felt Hotch's frustration. Every avenue they tried seemed to end in a dead end. But the fact that there hadn't been another victim in over 72 hours was a relief. But it was also a cause for alarm. It was possible that the UNSUB was through with his killing spree.

On the other hand, the UNSUB could be sitting back and biding his time before springing something new. That made the most sense. It had to. Nobody could kill the way this guy did and not get some kind of thrill. Then again, if it was propelled by revenge, the killings were going to increase and get more gruesome until he got the attention he was craving.

And Rossi knew that if he was the reason behind the killings, it was time to come clean with Hotch so they could figure out which steps to take.

Knocking much louder, he stepped inside the room. Hotch's head snapped up in surprise.

"Hey, Dave; come on in. I was just going over these files for more evidence."

"Find anything?" Dave sat down. Hotch shook his head. "Behmer? May I look?" Taking the file, he opened it and scanned the crime scene photos.

"I talked to Admiral Brown's press secretary this morning."

Not taking his eye off the file, Rossi nodded. "That explains Strauss's change in attitude. What did you tell him?"

Hotch sighed. "What could I tell him? We've hit a brick wall. Garcia can find nothing that even remotely connects the victims. No witnesses, nothing that points to a career serial killer, and virtually no evidence. It's almost too good to be true." Hotch leaned back in his chair. "If we could just find his justification for doing this, we could start weeding out suspects."

Rossi closed the file. "About that…Aaron, I don't know if this is relevant to the case, but I've been getting some letters."

Hotch sat up straighter. "What kind of letters?"

"Threatening. I've received letters before in the past, so I didn't think much of this first one, but after the second one arrived, I knew I needed to talk to you." Rossi reached in to his jacket and pulled the cream colored envelopes out. Handing them over, he waited for Hotch to read them.

"You've received these two? Here?"

"Both by registered mail, so there is no evidence of who dropped it off. Garcia checked the return address on the second letter and it's for a military base in Kansas. Actually, it's the Disciplinary Barracks in Leavenworth."

"Where Gifford was executed." The realisation was dawning on Hotch. "You think this might be connected to that case?"

"That or it's a helluva coincidence. I hate to have to get Strauss involved but I can't hide this from her."

Hotch sighed and rubbed his temple. "Do you think that these letters and the murders are connected?"

"The time stamp on the first letter was a week after the first murder."

"But that was three weeks ago. It usually doesn't take two weeks for a registered letter to arrive."

"I inquired about that; it was addressed to the FBI Headquarters, not the BAU. It got lost in the shuffle. Who ever this guy is, he's done his research. Just not very well."

Another knock on the door. It was Teddy. "Morning Agents," he greeted and grabbed the stack of mail bound by a rubber band. "Agent Hotchner, here you go."

Hotch took the bundle. "Thanks Teddy."

"Oh, since you are here, Agent Rossi, I have your mail." Another stack was handed over. For a moment, he started to leave and then turned around. "You both are familiar with Penelope Garcia?" he asked timidly.

Hotch looked up from his mail and gazed at the young man. Good kid, a little wet behind the ears. But good-looking and obviously quite smitten with the tech analyst.

"We do. Is there something we can help you with?" Hotch prompted.

"I…want to ask her out, but she's avoiding me."

"Well Teddy, Penelope is coming off of a break up. The best thing you can do is give her space."

"But is there something I can do to let her know that I am interested?"

"Send her an I-Pad," Rossi muttered.

Teddy gave a quick laugh. "That's a little out of my budget Agent Rossi."

Hotch shook his head. He wanted to send the kid away, but he didn't want to be rude. "I know she likes tulips and Ethel M chocolates."

Teddy brightened. "Okay. That's a big help."

"Teddy," Hotch called out. "The chocolates are out of Vegas; you will have to go on line to order them."

"Sure. You're the best!" Teddy happily left the room. Hotch looked at Rossi.

"That was strange."

"You have no idea." Rossi shuffled thru his stack and stopped. "Hotch?" He held up another letter.

"Open it."

Rossi slit the lip and extracted the paper. **"BASTARD! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOUR TIME IS COMING! WE WILL MEET!"**

Wordlessly he handed it to Hotch. "We have to get Strauss involved."

"Wait! There is something else." Rossi opened the manila envelope. "What the hell?" Turning it over, he dumped a dozen photos into his lap. "This is Celeste Behmer, Michelle Brown, and Maggie Thieness. The bastard took pictures of them during their torture and after he murdered them." Handing them over to Hotch, he paused. "What is this?" Rossi felt his heart drop.

"What is it Dave?"

Rossi held up the photo. "I haven't seen this in 24 years; this was taken as we were being escorted out of the execution chamber."

"What do you mean?"

"There were two photos taken that night. This was the one they wanted to use. Director Webster got on the phone and told them that it was still a high profile case that involved a Federal agent and there was no way he would allow the press to endanger innocent lives. The photo was pulled and the other was used with our names deleted."

"That's some power. Today that photo would have been all over the internet before the Director could pick up the phone."

"True. But back in 1986 the FBI and White House had a little more pull with the press."

"It's possible that he is somehow connected to the case; how else would he know the significance of the photo? You think this is why he's going after you?"

"I think he's connected some how to Gifford. But as far as I know, there was no off-spring and he was not allowed conjugal visits because he was on death row. It could be a family member of some type."

"But why you Dave? Because when I go in front of Strauss to ask for a security detail, she is going to want to know."

Rossi dropped his shoulders. "We dropped the ball when we acquired Gifford."

"Are you saying he was innocent?"

"Hell no! We caught him trying to abduct another woman. But that is where it gets dicey. The woman was an enlisted and we recruited her to lure Gifford in. Only after we had Gifford in custody and on trial did it come to light that the woman had made complaints against two Army officers she was stationed with. Seems she was leaving the base club one night in 1982 and was attacked by the two officers. They were arrested, tried and sent to jail after being discharged."

"So how did that hamper your case?"

"Technically it didn't. But it was how it looked -on paper. We did everything we could to suppress that during the trial. It wasn't relevant but Gifford's lawyer wanted it entered as proof that he was framed. There was also a dismissal filed on the grounds of entrapment and false arrest. He was denied. But later, while on death row, a writ of Habeas Corpus was filed."

"Dave-" Hotch had studied the case and didn't recall a writ.

Rossi held up his hands. "I had nothing to do with it, though I was the chief investigator. Because a habeas relief had been filed, they figured they could suppress the other until a ruling came back. He was denied. That night he was put to death by order of President Reagan. A week later a judge ruled that the habeas corpus petition would be denied."

"But Gifford was dead."

"That's our justice system. No different than the 9/11 hijackers getting their visas extended a month after plowing planes into the twin towers."

Hotch shifted the pictures and the files. "This isn't good Dave, but you did nothing wrong. You were just the investigator. Legally, you had no responsibility but for his capture. But someone out there thinks you suppressed evidence to have Gifford executed. They think you helped kill an innocent man."

"So what do we do? Do I take time off and go to the cabin?"

"He probably knows about it. You stay on the team; you're safer that way. At night, there will be a security detail that will follow you to your car and one outside your house. At least until we can catch this guy."

Rossi felt himself start to sweat. "About my partnering with Prentiss…"

"We will move her to Morgan and let Reid take her place with you."

Rossi swallowed hard. "It's just that there's something I need to tell you-"

A knock interrupted them. JJ stepped inside. "Hotch. I just received a call from the police chief; another woman was abducted from her home this morning."

"Is he sure?"

She nodded. "Judy Montgomery had gotten off the late shift this morning and picked her baby up from the sitter. She phoned her husband that she was heading to the grocery store on the way home."

"She never made it?" Rossi asked as he stood up.

"She made it home," JJ corrected, "but that's as far as she got. A neighbour heard the baby crying and when she went to investigate, the grocery bags were on the pathway and the baby was in the car. Judy was no where to be found."

"When was the baby discovered?" Hotch and Rossi both took the folders JJ handed their way.

"About 8:30. The grocery receipt shows her transaction was at 7:28. It's a fifteen minute drive from there to her house."

"That gives us a 45 minute window which the abduction could have happened." Rossi looked at his watch. "That was over two hours ago. We don't have much time."

"Dave, go with JJ and the others. I still need to talk to Strauss. JJ, get me everything you can about the latest victim. This was done in broad daylight. Someone saw something."

"Got it Hotch." JJ walked off.

Hotch gathered up the letters and pictures. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure. You want me and Reid to go over to the house?"

"No. Send Morgan and Prentiss. You and Reid go to the police station and get copies of the investigation report and the 911 calls and forward them to Garcia. Also, get Morgan to have the husband give her cell number so Garcia can ping it." Hotch rushed out of the office.

"I'm on it." Rossi watched Hotch race for the elevator before it closed. Looking below, he watched the team get up and hurry to the briefing room. Sighing, he walked down the steps. He didn't get a chance to come clean with Hotch. Now he was going to have to tell Prentiss and find a way to convince her to move out for her safety.

Running a hand over his face, he followed his team.

It was definitely the week from hell. And now they had another victim.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. This is what keeps me going. Well, the UNSUB struck again and everything is about to implode as our profilers are drawn in to try and protect one of their own. Dave tries to come clean with Em who refuses to leave his side. Will he use his ace to force her hand?_

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**No Place Left To Fall**

The house was full of cops and family. Outside on the street, neighbours mulled around the yellow police tape.

As Morgan pulled up to the house three doors down, they noticed the victim's car being loaded on to the back of a tow truck.

Jumping out, Prentiss rushed over to the driver who was working the hydraulic. "Excuse me, sir?" She flashed her credentials. "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss. I need to know where you are taking this car."

The burly man looked at her and spit a wad of tobacco juice on the street. "To the police impound yard. Heard they want it for evidence."

"Do you know who's in charge?" Prentiss asked.

The driver spat again, barely missing Morgan's shoes. "I think it's that red-haired guy standing on the porch."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you," the driver replied and scanned Prentiss from head to toe.

Morgan shot him a look. "Hands off," he growled. Falling in step with his partner, they made their way to the porch. Flashing their credentials again, Prentiss asked for the officer in charge. A red-haired, mustached detective stepped forward.

"I heard the case was being taken over by the Feds. This is still a police matter." His tone was defensive.

"Technically sir, the case was turned over to the FBI three days ago by order of the President."

"Whoopdeedoo! A woman went missing for no apparent reason. It's possible that she ran off with her lover, or her husband was involved. This is hardly a case for the FBI. Maybe you guys should be hunting Bin Laden."

Morgan sucked his breath in and removed his sunglasses. Prentiss looked around inside and saw the victim's husband sitting on the couch, his hands trying to comfort the wailing child who kept crying for her mama. The grief was evident on his face. If her profiling expertise was correct, the husband was not their UNSUB.

Realizing that Morgan was about to go off on the detective, Prentiss held a finger up. Then in her most authoritarian tone replied: "I'll have you know that I really don't appreciate you trying to pull rank on me, but since you are a junior detective trying to make a name for himself, I'll let it go this time. As for jurisdiction - it is a kidnapping/abduction case, which makes it federal. Second of all, the husband was not involved in his wife's disappearance and you are out of line to suggest that especially in front of him less than 20 feet away. Have you no shame?

"And last but not least, I would love to search for Bin Laden, but since he was not involved -as far as we know- in this abduction, it's out of our hands. You should be talking to the CIA."

Morgan tried to suppress a grin while the detective stuttered for a response. "Who do you think you are?"

"I am a federal agent investigating the kidnapping, rape, and murder of three women -one being the daughter of a high ranking military officer who is close friends with the President of the United States. My orders come directly from him. Don't believe me? Call him. Until then, step aside and let me and my partner do our job so we can catch this son of a bitch. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am." The detective's face matched his hair. Prentiss turned to Morgan. "Agent Morgan, please take the detective aside and get the information about the car being towed."

Replacing his sunglasses, Morgan led the detective to the yard. Prentiss carefully made her way inside and walked over to the grieving man on the couch.

"Mr. Gordon Hinkley? My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI. I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you a few questions."

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I don't know if I can tell you anything." The baby kept wailing. "Shhh, Lisel, it's okay. Mommy will be home soon."

Prentiss sat down on the coffee table. "Do you know who may have done this? Did Mischa have any enemies?"

"No," he tried to speak above the baby. "Everyone likes her; she's a Sunday school teacher. She was coming off her shift to be off the next three days. It's all my fault."

Prentiss shook her head. "This was no one's fault." Suddenly the baby launched onto Prentiss's lap. "Oh!"

Gordon tried to pull her back. "I'm sorry. Ever since…she's been a little clingy." The more he tried to get the baby back, the more Lisel struggled. Curled up on Prentiss's lap, Lisel stopped wailing and started sucking her thumb. Nothing in the FBI handbook stating that an agent couldn't comfort a scared child, so Prentiss let her stay.

"It's okay. Lucky for her, I like babies. Mr. Hinkley, have you noticed any strange cars in the neighbourhood? Any phone calls where someone hangs up as soon as you answer? Any strange people at the door?"

Gordon blew his nose. "Uh…let me think. Our dog went missing a few days ago. Just disappeared. We put flyers up in the neighbourhood. Gosh, I don't know."

Prentiss subconsciously stroked the baby's hair and noticed her eyelids getting heavier with each passing minute. "It may seem like nothing, but it could help locate the guy who did this."

"When the lady next door called me, I rushed over from work. The car door was open…and there was a flyer on the ground."

"One of yours?"

"Yeah. I picked it up and put it in my pocket."

"Do you have it now?"

Gordon stood up. "Right here." He handed it to her. As a precaution, Prentiss reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the latex gloves, and donned them before taking the evidence. Carefully she placed it in a plastic bag.

"Thank you. I understand what you are going thru. We are going to do everything we can to find the person who did this. I'm going to leave you my card; if you remember anything, please call." Looking down, she saw the baby was fast asleep. Gently, without waking her, Prentiss handed Lisel to her father.

"Thank you," Gordon choked out.

"You're welcome." Looking around, Prentiss stepped outside and looked for Morgan. Waiting for him to finish questioning a potential witness, she walked over to him.

"Find anything?"

Morgan closed his notepad. "Nothing that is going to help us catch this guy." Together they walked to the SUV. Getting inside, Morgan fastened his seatbelt. "I like how you took that detective on."

"I wasn't in the mood for games. Any detective worth his paycheck would have noticed in a second that the husband was not involved." Prentiss snapped the belt in place. Morgan chuckled. "What?"

"For a moment, I thought I was listening to Rossi." Morgan started the engine.

"Well we have been partnering for quite a while now." She quickly changed the subject. "Mr. Hinkley said he found this flyer on the ground when he arrived home. Think we might be able to get something from it?"

Morgan glanced out of the corner of his eye. "We'll have to get that down to the FBI lab pronto."

"You think this guy is our UNSUB?"

"I'm leaning toward it, but I still can't figure out what his motive might be." Morgan put the car in drive. "What ever it is, this guy is harboring a lot of anger toward someone."

Prentiss let out her breath. "I'd sure hate to be that person right now." Morgan nodded in agreement.  
*_*_*_*_*_*

"Our UNSUB is a loner," Hotch announced to the room full of police officers and other law enforcement members. The rest of the team flanked him on either side while Director Erin Strauss stood off in the far corner.

"It's likely that he has little to no friends. He works menial jobs to stay under the radar," Hotch continued.

"It's quite possible that he has spent time working in prisons as a groundskeeper or part of a janitorial service. He's never been in a job that requires fingerprinting, which explains why we cannot match in national database," Prentiss continued.

"Although he is a loner, he's not shy about his feelings and animosity toward law enforcement. He's quick to speak up about Police brutality and the wrongs of the criminal justice system. He believes that prisoners in the system have been railroaded by over-eager prosecutors," Rossi remarked.

"Despite the viciousness of his crimes, he doesn't hate women," Reid finished. A police officer raised his hand.

"That doesn't make sense. His treatment of the victims has been brutal and incomprehensible."

"True. But it's the way he tortures them that leads us to believe that he is not doing this out of hatred to women; he is trying to get revenge and this is a statement. He's probably been married but his anger and need for revenge dissolved it. He also is close to his mother and was probably raised to believe that who ever he is related to may have been framed by the justice system," Reid spoke rapidly in answer.

"Another thing," Hotch interjected, "this person has been traveling quite often from this area to the Kansas City/Ft Leavenworth area. Now that he is residing here to complete his task, he may have defaulted on his rent or storage unit. We should look for storage auctions or recent litigations in that area." Taking a look at the room and then his team, Hotch called the meeting over.

Walking over to Strauss, Hotch held her gaze.

"You think that is going to find our UNSUB?" she asked warily. "Especially after he took another woman in broad daylight?"

"It's out there now and the police know what to look for. All we can do is wait."

"I'm going to be on the phone with the Admiral's press secretary in twenty minutes; what do I tell him? That we wait for the UNSUB to kill another woman and possibly kidnap another?"

It took everything Hotch had to bite his tongue. "I am expecting word back any minute from the crime lab on the flyer Agent Prentiss acquired. If there were any fingerprints, then we'll find them. Tell Secretary Hamilton if he has a problem with it to call me."

Strauss glared at him and then turned her attention to Rossi. "I should have known you were behind this. Is it your lot in life to have trouble follow you?" She curled her lip is disdain. "I am half tempted to put you on administrative leave until all of this blows over instead of taking precious man power away to guard your ass, but I am responsible for the health and security of my agents."

"Thank you Director, I'm sure you would have it your way if you could get away with it," Rossi replied with equal disdain. Holding her gaze, unspoken words transpired between them until Strauss turned away to focus on Hotch. "I will expect you in my office in fifteen minutes."

Hotch didn't drop his stance. "Yes Director."

Strauss spun on Rossi. "And you, I want you in my office at four to work out the security detail schedule." Then she stalked off.

"Reid, Rossi, JJ, I need you back at the BAU," Hotch announced. "Morgan, Prentiss, get the latest from the crime lab and the police forensics team." The team sans Prentiss and Rossi left the room.

Prentiss turned to Rossi. "What is this about a security detail?"

"Could we discuss this later?" he asked his tone weary. "This is not the time or the place."

"I just want to know what is going on Dave. Why are you getting a security detail? And what was Strauss's remark about putting you on Administrative leave?" her tone held concern. "Are you connected to the case in some way?"

"Prentiss," Rossi answered evenly, "I can't go into it right now. Can we wait until we get home?" His eyes warned her not to go further.

Knowing she was beat, Prentiss sighed. "Okay." Looking at her watch she started walking. "I need to catch up with Morgan. See you later."

Watching her leave, Rossi knew that his world had gone from heavenly to hell and was on its way to becoming worse. And there were going to be no winners in the end.

Quietly he followed her out of the room.  
*_*_*_*_*_*

"And that is where it stands right now," Dave finished.

Emily looked at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me that in 1986 you watched a man be put to death -a man who threatened revenge from the grave- and now all of a sudden women are being murdered and you're receiving threatening letters and it could be connected to James Lee Gifford?"

Dave shook his head. "Yes."

"And you and Hotch believe that whoever is doing this is trying to get even with you?"

"Yes."

"That makes…absolutely no sense. And Strauss got you a security detail until we catch this guy?"

"Emily, it wasn't my idea; Hotch feels that the next move is going to be against me. If I had it my way, I'd be at the cabin with Mudgie. But we don't know how much our UNSUB knows about me -us."

"What are you saying?"

"Your mother is staying at the embassy," Dave commented.

"Yes. What are you asking?" Emily replied slowly.

"I want you to stay with her until all of this is over."

"What am I supposed to tell Hotch? You don't think he's going to get suspicious when I tell him I am staying at the embassy?"

"I'll think of something. Right now my priority is to keep you safe. If anything happens to you, I don't know what I'd do."

Emily's glance softened. "You just don't want the team to kick your ass."

"Actually, I'm more afraid of what your mother will do to me."

"How long are we talking? A couple days? A week?"

Dave shook his head. "I don't know. He's going to make a move, but when and where is anyone's guess."

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. "What if he makes a move on you? The security detail can't follow you everywhere."

"True. But I don't have a reason to stop anywhere between here and the office." He pulled her into his arms and felt her body go limp. Slowly he stroked her back.

"I'm scared, Dave," she whispered. "I feel that I really need to stay here with you in case -"

"Tesoro, I understand, but I already called your mother and let her know what is happening. She's expecting you for dinner."

"What else did you tell her?"

"Nothing she needs to know right now," Dave replied and inhaled the sweet scent of Emily's perfume as though he would never get the chance again. "When all of this is over, we'll come clean."

Emily pulled back. "Are you sure? This could mean your job."

"You mean more to me than any job. But first and foremost, let's get you safe. I don't know how long we can keep our secret with the detail watching you traipse in and out of here."

"Okay. You win…again. I'll go to my mother's and I'll keep partnering with Morgan until this guy is caught."

"When all of this is over, you might still be partnering with Morgan, so get used to it."

Emily gave a short laugh. "Perhaps, but I'll still be able to come home to you every night. Out of curiosity, what time is the Ambassador expecting me?" She nuzzled Dave's neck as her hands pulled his shirt free from the waistband of his jeans.

"Two hours." Dave tried to get his thoughts together. "Em! I think you should be packing." He protested but his body reacted as it always did to her touch.

"I have two hours. I just want to say good-bye." Her mouth caught his for a deep kiss. "Love me Dave," she breathed.

"Always," Dave replied. Picking her up, he carried her to the bedroom and shut the door.


	7. Chapter 7

_Poor Dave. Even Mudgie is feeling Emily's absence. But things are about to climax as Dave's past finally catches up. The first part of the story does deal with assault but I tried to keep it low-key, though do read with caution. The dream Dave has is ironically the same one I had two nights ago. I thought it was fitting to describe his life at the moment because I was feeling the same thing too. Sorry for such a weak chapter._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**No Place Left To Fall**

Continual sobs filled the small space of the cold dank mold filled basement. Mischa Hinkley, bound and blindfolded sat against the cold wall and tried not to lose hope. But she couldn't stop the tears; she wanted her baby. She wanted to go home.

Her ears perked up at the sound of footsteps on the wooden steps. Trying to straighten her posture, she realised that her knees were locked and numb from being in one position for too long.

"Please," she called out, her voice quavering from her recent sobs. "Please let me go. I won't tell anyone. I just want to see my baby again." No answer responded to her pleas. "Please, tell me how my baby is; please tell me you didn't hurt her. I'll do anything; just don't hurt her."

Kneeling down in front of her, he set the battery powered lantern down on the ground. Pulling the switchblade out from his back pocket, he opened it and ran the blade down Mischa's cheek. The light cast an eerie glow on her face and heightened the tear tracks thru the smudges of dirt.

As she felt the blade, she tried not to shiver and show fear, but fresh tears broke free. "Please, tell me about my baby," she repeated. Mischa was resigned to him killing her, but she could never handle anything happening to Lisel.

"Your baby is fine," the deep voice finally responded. "At least she will be as long as you do what you're told." He ran the blade down her chin to her neck and to her blouse. Gently he slid the blade and cut the buttons away.

Mischa felt the cold damp air hit her skin. Her mouth went dry as fear filled her body. "Please don't kill me," she begged. Another button disappeared and her blouse was pushed aside. What was he doing? Her mind screamed. Dear God, help me!

"Oh, I don't plan on killing you…yet. I have someone who needs to see you before I do that." Yanking her blouse down, he pulled her roughly to her feet. Unable to stand due to numbness and her equilibrium off balance, Mischa fell against her captor. Unable to comprehend the situation, she felt herself being thrown on what seemed to be a table.

"Please, my husband will give you anything you want. Please don't hurt me. Please!" Still dizzy from standing too quickly, and her shoulders hurting from lying on her arms tied behind her back, she tried to move when she felt him jerk her legs apart.

Then she screamed.  
*_*_*_*_*_*_*

To say that Dave Rossi had gotten a crummy night's sleep would have been the understatement of the century.

Once he made sure Emily had arrived at her mother's safely, he spent the rest of the night studying the cases trying to find that elusive clue. Around eight-thirty, he had ordered a pizza and invited the security detail inside to share. Ever the loner by nature, Dave found himself trying to reach out to the people assigned to guarding his life.

It was the usual conversation he had with junior agents and the same 20 or 30 questions about his time in the FBI and his most famous cases. Most of the time he brushed such inquiries off, but tonight, as he sat in his huge house by himself, he kinda welcomed the company. It would take an act of Congress to admit that he missed Emily -that wasn't in his nature to admit loneliness or defeat, but Mudgie was making it known with his heavy sighs and lethargic attitude.

Dejected and morose, Mudgie spent the evening laying by the fireplace. Occasionally he would heave a deep sigh to let the group know he was still around. When one of the agents offered a piece of crust, Mudgie got up and turned his back to the men. He wanted his mistress. And he knew Dave felt the same way too.

After sending the remaining slices with the men, Dave closed the house down and set the alarm. Then he turned in. He was okay until he rolled over and reached for the familiar warm body. Restless, he forced himself to relax.

_He wasn't sure what drew him over to the empty well. But he stood at the side and looked down. Blinking, he saw a turtle on the ground. Trying to reach for it, Dave gave up and decided to crawl inside. Once his feet hit the ground he felt it shift. Panicking, he tried to crawl up the wall but fell back. The more he struggled to escape the faster the ground sank. He felt his feet sink into the muck._

_"Help!" he shouted out. "Somebody help!" But there was no answer. He felt his heart constrict with fear as he watched the turtle dig for safety. Bracing for the worst, he tried once more to free himself but failed._

_"If anyone can hear me, I'm down here! Please send help!" Nothing. He felt hot tears of defeat burn his eyes. He was dying. Then it dawned on him that if he wanted to live he was going to have to make the first move. Bracing his back against the wall, he extended his legs to the other side of the wall. And the ground stopped falling._

_Breathing a sigh of relief, he reached down and picked up the turtle. And then inch by inch he scaled up the wall until he was at the top and back to safety. Jumping over the edge, he took the turtle and placed it on the ground._

Dave sat straight up in bed. His body covered in sweat, his eyes wild and his heart beating erratically, he tried to recall where he was. He sagged with relief when he saw he was still in his room.

Looking at his watch, he made out the time. 0600. Oh well, he couldn't sleep anyway. Getting up, he made his way to the shower. Letting the warm spray hit his body, Dave realized that Mudgie had not slept in the room. A first.

Drying off, he wrapped the towel around his hips and brushed his teeth then a quick shave. The weather channel in the background forecasted that Quantico was to have morning thunderstorms with nearly an inch of rain.

Great! Dave thought. Well at least the weather matched his and Mudgie's moods. Then it dawned on him that he was going to see Emily at work in less than three hours, and he smiled. Straightening his tie, Dave slipped on his shoes and made his way down the stairs while calling for his dog.

With the promise of a treat, he got Mudgie outside and went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Opening the cupboard, he took down the Folger's canister and opened it. Empty.

"Prentiss!" he shouted before he could help it. Sighing, Dave placed the can on the counter and replaced the lid. _Dammit! No coffee! First no sleep, now no coffee._ He couldn't get to work fast enough.

Letting Mudgie in, Dave grabbed his briefcase and corduroy jacket and stepped outside. Locking the door, he set the alarm.

"Morning Agent Rossi," one of the guys parked near the curb called out.

"Hi!" Dave returned. The thunder rumbled in the distance. "News says we are in for an inch of rain. You going to be okay?"

"Yeah. We change shift in about an hour. Drive safe."

"You too." Dave got in the car and started the engine. Backing out of the driveway, he headed down the street. Halfway to the BAU, the skies opened up and poured down. Slowing the car, he spied a Dunkin' Donuts and pulled in.

Locking the door, he rushed inside. Greeting the kid behind the counter, he ordered a coffee and baker's dozen of donuts. Out of character but what the hell? Just because he had a crappy night didn't mean that he had to take it out on his co-workers.

Paying for the order, he balanced the items and made his way outside. The intensity of the storm had picked up. As he approached the car, he noticed the front tire was flat. "What the hell?" He muttered under his breath. Using the remote, he unlocked the door and placed his items in front seat and then he pulled out his cell phone.

"Hello? Hotch? It's Dave. I'm on my way in right now. I stopped at the Dunkin' Donuts and found out I have a flat. I know. It's raining like hell here. I'm going to call for road assistance so I might be a little late. I'll call back and let you know. Okay. See you then." Hitting end, he placed the call for assistance and waited.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something. Setting the coffee down, he got out of the car. Seeing nothing, he kicked the front tire hard. Of all the things to happen today... Could it get worse?

Feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck, Dave heard the click of a pistol hammer being drawn back and his blood ran cold.

"Hello Agent Rossi," the dead toned voice greeted. "Move away slowly and no one will get hurt."

Turning around, Dave took that opportunity to lunge for the pistol. Then his world went black.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Two major revelations in this chapter. Both are going to have a big impact to the case. Although one will have a HUGE impact on the team. At the same time the team is getting closer to identifying the UNSUB while unaware that he has one of their own._**

**_The idea about the zip-tie serial numbers is based on an actual case I saw on 'Forensic Files' a few years back._**

**_The case of Etan Patz is based on information gained from the trutv website. Etan was declared 'legally dead' in 2001 although the case has since been re-opened._**

**_Once again, I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did, I would hire all of you fabulous writers in a minute and watch our ratings go thru the roof!_**

**No Place Left To Fall**

Prentiss reached for the pot of coffee but was beat by Morgan. "Hey! First come; first serve!"

Morgan poured the hot liquid in his cup and replaced the carafe. "You look like hell," he commented. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Just a little tired," she replied and poured herself a cup of the steaming hot energy booster.

Morgan raised his eyebrow. "Hot date?"

"I wish. My mother is back in town. I spent the night at her place 'catching up' so to speak."

"That sounds like fun," Morgan commented.

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Fun? I haven't seen her in two years and then I get to stay up all night trying to find interesting things to talk about. It's funny how exciting our job seems until you have to discuss what we actually do and try to leave out the names, places, and classified information."

"If you had nothing to talk about, why did you stay the night with her?" Morgan inquired.

"Because Da-" Prentiss stopped herself. _Oh crap!_ Morgan's ears perked up. "Because days earlier she called and invited me to dinner," she amended.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I don't know why you would spend the night at your mother's when it wasn't something you obviously wanted to do."

"Well, when the Ambassador calls, one must answer," Prentiss shrugged. Morgan was suspicious. His senses were on high alert but he couldn't put his finger on why.

JJ showed up. "Hi guys," she greeted. "Briefing in the BAU room."

"Thanks, JJ."

Morgan watched his partner. "I'm going to find out."

Prentiss sipped her coffee. "There's nothing to find out."

"Oooo! Are you baiting me?"

"Drop it Morgan." Prentiss walked into the room and took a seat. Opening the folder, she began to peruse it without much interest.

"Just tell me his name."

"Tell whose name?" Reid inquired.

"The man Prentiss had a hot date with last night."

"There was no hot date; I spent the night at my mother's."

"Your mother's back in town?" Reid asked with surprise.

Prentiss rubbed a weary hand over her forehead and eyes. "Yes, she is."

"How is the Ambassador?" JJ wondered.

"Fine. She just got back from her latest posting in Czechoslovakia and I got to hear all the wonderful stories of state dinners and meeting with dignitaries whose names I can't even begin to pronounce."

"Sounds like fun. When do you see her again?"

"She invited me back tonight. Guess we have some serious catching up to do."

JJ thought for a moment. "Sounds like it. So what are you-?"

Prentiss cut her off. "Where's Rossi?"

"He called earlier. He had a flat tire. He should be here any minute," Hotch responded to her question. Sitting down, he took his place at the head of the conference table. "We'll start without him and I'll fill him in later. So, JJ what's the latest?"

Clicking the remote, JJ brought Mischa Hinkley's picture up on the screen. "The forensics team had no luck matching the fingerprints from the flyer. But there was a DNA match between all three previous victims."

"I still can't believe this guy literally snatched a woman in broad daylight and nobody saw anything?" Morgan asked.

"Considering the time and place, it's not unusual," Reid observed. "Contrary to popular belief, a majority of abductions happen in broad daylight with little to no witnesses. Take for instance the case of six year old Etan Patz. In 1979 he walked two blocks from his apartment to the bus stop in Soho with his mother watching, and literally vanished into thin air. Thirty years later, no witnesses have stepped forward and Etan is still the greatest kidnapping mystery in FBI history."

"We have just as many leads with Mischa Hinkley as we do with all the others," Prentiss remarked wryly. "We're hitting brick walls every time we turn around."

"Have there been any tips?" Morgan asked.

"Plenty of calls, but nothing substantial. The tip line has been going crazy with all kinds of possible sightings," JJ replied.

"Nothing like a front page abduction to bring out the kooks."

"Well, kooks or not, we have to figure out who this guy is and what his next move is before he hurts someone else. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to visit each of the crime scenes and see if there is something we are missing. Reid, as soon as Rossi gets in, I want you two to reevaluate the UNSUB's profile. JJ, I'm going to need you to accompany me to Strauss's office."

Standing up Hotch walked to the door and left. The rest of the team took that as their dismissal.

Walking over to her desk, Prentiss opened her purse and took out her phone. Dialing quickly, she waited impatiently for an answer. Hanging up, she tried again. Frustrated, she waited for the voice mail to switch over. "I'm getting worried; call me." Hitting end, she thrust it into her coat pocket.

"Calling your mother?" Morgan teased.

"Checking to see if dinner is at seven or eight," Prentiss answered with a bite.

Morgan started to say something, but after seeing the look in her eyes, he stopped. "Okay. Let's go."

"Good idea."  
+_+_+_+_+

Hotch truly believed that Strauss could drive the Pope to drink. He wasn't sure what had possessed that woman, but he truly was of the opinion that she needed an exorcism. Or surgery to remove the board from her ass!

_Not nice Aaron_, his conscience chastised. Looking at his watch he noticed it was nearly noon. Noon and already he was longing for good stiff bourbon. Tossing the folders on his desk, he wondered if he could get Dave to go out after work for a couple drinks. And maybe he could pick Dave's brain and figure out how to beat Strauss at her own game.

Descending the stairs to the bullpen, Hotch did a double take. Reid was in the BAU room? What the hell?

Knocking, he opened the door to see Dr Reid pacing back and forth, the white board covered with formulas only recognizable to the boy genius.

"Reid, I thought I told you to go with Rossi and rework the UNSUB's profile." Hotch didn't mean to sound gruff, but Reid had never disobeyed an assignment.

"He isn't here, but I think I figured out the elusive clue we've been missing," Reid replied excitedly. "See these crime photos? Each of the victims had their hands tied behind their backs with zip-ties. Did you know that zip-ties have serial numbers? Well, not serial numbers, but they have identification marks. Each batch is different but the same."

Moving over to the white board, Reid pointed to the numbers he had written. "I got hold of Garcia to find out what the numbers were on the zip-ties left on the victims. Two came from the same batch and the third was from a different one. Anyway, I had Garcia contact the manufacturer and find out where these two batches were shipped. The first batch, where two of the ties came from, was shipped to five stores in the Kansas City area. The second batch, where one came from, was shipped to a True Value here in Virginia."

Hotch swore at that moment his head was spinning. "How is this going to help us track down our UNSUB?"

Magic words to reenergize the already hyper Reid. "The zip-ties are sold in bunches of one hundred. Before a store can make a sale, they have to enter the customer's zip code. It's a security measure. Any way, each sale has an identification mark -the zip code- which stays on record to measure how many items are being sold to a particular area."

"Reid, I really don't have time for this."

"I know; bear with me. Anyway, I figure if we can get Garcia to get those sales records, we will be able to narrow down who bought those zip-ties. Since he bought them in two different areas, it's possible that he used the same zip code in Kansas _and _here in Virginia. And it's possible that he used a credit card."

"Which is also a permanent record," Hotch finished slowly, his mind racing a hundred miles a minute. Nodding, he patted Reid on the back. "Go get with Garcia and see what you can find out."

Reid rushed out of the room. At the last second, Hotch called after him. "Reid! What do you mean Rossi never showed up?"

"He never came in," was Reid's simple reply.

Hotch wasn't sure why his blood suddenly ran cold, but something was wrong. Reaching for his phone, he dialed Dave's number. Automatically it went to voice mail. "Dave, this is Aaron. Call me when you get this."

Hitting end, he frowned. He had known David Rossi for nearly twenty years and never knew him to skip work or forget to call in. Dialing another number, Hotch waited patiently.

"You have reached the magical sanctuary of the mighty sorceress of information and knowledge. State your business."

"Garcia, I need a favour."

"Favours don't come free on this side of the universe. You will have to make it worth my while."

"I might be able to work a new Mac into the budgetary expense next fiscal year."

"Oh, those are magic words to my ears. Your wish is my command."

"I tried to call Rossi but I got his voicemail. Check to see if he has any alternate numbers for contact."

"Yes sir. I have another number here on his phone list. Do you want me to ring it?" Silence greeted her. "I...will take that as a yes. Out of curiosity why would Agent Rossi have an alternate number?"

"For business purposes. An alternate number keeps his main line from being tied up."

"Well, Hotch, you'd better keep your promise about that Mac because I'm patching you thru now."  
+_+_+_+_+_+

Morgan looked at the pier where the sentry stood to where the crate with the first victim was discovered. This case was getting stranger with each passing hour.

"How in the hell did he get that thing here without being noticed?" Morgan asked.

"Four AM on a chilly night standing in an unheated ply-wood shack," Prentiss replied.

"Are you suggesting the watch fell asleep?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Major dereliction of duty. So, who ever he is, he has access to the base. But how?"

"It is a repair yard; there are delivery trucks coming and going at all hours. It's possible that that's how he gained access. Unfortunately, since he didn't deliver anything, there won't be a record of a receipt."

"Same with the golf course," Morgan supplied. "Something that covers such a large area is going to have security breeches."

"Guess we'd better head over to Master Sergeant Behmer's residence. Maybe one of the neighbours saw something." An unfamiliar ring tone filled the air. Prentiss reached into her coat pocket and extracted a fuchsia colored phone.

"You have two phones?" Morgan asked incredulously.

Prentiss ignored him and looked at the caller ID. Quantico prefix. A perplexed look crossed her features as she hit the call button.

"Hello?"

A long pause. "Prentiss? This is Hotch."

"Hotch?" Prentiss swallowed hard. _Oh shit!_

"This is Dave's number, what are you doing with his phone?"

_Double oh shit!_

"Prentiss, why would you answer Dave's alternate phone number?"

Prentiss took a long moment to gather her thoughts and then replied, "Hotch, I think we need to talk…"


	9. Chapter 9

_Uh oh! "It" has officially hit the fan and now Prentiss and Hotch are going to have to deal with the ramifications. Elsewhere, Dave has discovered that the UNSUB has captured Mischa and is holding her for some vengeful purpose. Two different worlds are now on a serious course for collision._

_I don't own Criminal Minds. _

**No Place Left To Fall**

Musty, damp, cold, and pain were the first thoughts Dave had as he came around. He wasn't sure where the hell he was but he was pretty sure wherever it was, it probably was a close cousin of hell.

Struggling to free himself, he realized his hands were tightly bound behind his back. _This is not good, _Dave thought as he tried to move his legs and found his ankles bound, too. Leaning his head against the cool wall, he tried to gather his thoughts.

The last thing he remembered was hearing the click of a gun and then turning around. Now he was waking up on a dirt floor with the heavy smell of mold and death surrounding him. He had to get out of there.

Dave stopped struggling as the sound of weeping reached his ears. "Who's there?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"Be quiet. He'll hear you," a tiny voice from the darkness responded.

"My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. What's your name?"

"Mischa Hinkley. You're with the FBI?"

"Yes, I am. Are you okay?"

"I miss my baby. Do you know if he's hurt her?" Mischa sobbed.

Dave tried to think back on the case. "Your daughter is alright."

"Are you sure? He told me he is going to hurt her if I don't do what he says."

"Mischa, your baby is with your husband. They have been moved to a secure location."

"Really?"

"My partners made sure of it. The FBI is watching your family."

"Thank you." Her soft weeping resumed.

Dave listened as Mischa wept and his thoughts went to the team. Did they know he was gone? Had Hotch tried to call him? Was the team trying to find him? What about Emily -was she kicking herself for not staying? Was she blaming herself for not being there when he needed her?

He groaned inwardly. If only he hadn't stopped off for a cup of coffee this whole thing could have been avoided. He had promised Emily that he had no reason to stop anywhere. His need to do things his way on his schedule landed him in this hell hole.

"Mischa, I need to ask you: has he hurt you?"

"Y-yes. I tried to stop him."

_Shit!_ "Mischa, listen to me; you have to stay strong, okay? None of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong."

"I-I kn-know. I just…didn't want him to hurt Lisel."

_Lisel? Oh, the baby._ "That's understandable. You did what you had to do," Dave reassured her. "Did he say why he took you?"

"No."

"You don't know him?"

"N-n-never seen him b-before. H-he said…he said he f-found my dog."

Dave's mind whirled. He had no doubt the UNSUB they were looking for was responsible for abducting Mischa. And he had no doubt that the UNSUB was behind the Hinkleys' dog disappearing. If his gut was correct, the letters were from the same person. Somehow everything, the murders, abductions, and letters were tied to James Lee Gifford. But how?

Dave tried to think but the throbbing in his head was unbearable. He was pretty sure the wet feeling running down his neck was blood but that couldn't be helped now. He was going to have to keep Mischa calm and try to find a way to get them out of there. And he was going to find out who the UNSUB was and why he felt Dave was the reason behind his crimes.

"I told him not to kill me," Mischa whispered.

"What?" Dave asked as he tried to come back to the present.

"After he brought me here, I told him not to kill me. He said he wouldn't. Then he raped me."

Dave felt his heart constrict. "Mischa, I know this is difficult for you, but did he say why he didn't kill you?"

"He told me that there was someone who needed to see me. He said this person was responsible for everything and that it was _his_ fault."

"Did he say who this person is?"

"No."

"Do you know where he is right now?"

"No. I think he brought you down here. He said something, and then he left."

"Do you know what time it was?"

"I'm blindfolded. Maybe a couple of hours. I don't know. He said he'd be back."

The silence went on for a long while. Dave wondered if the poor woman had passed out from exhaustion and fatigue. He wouldn't blame her. The past couple of days must have been hell for her.

"Sir?" Mischa's tiny voice called.

"Dave," he corrected automatically.

"Dave, do you believe in God?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you pray?"

Dave thought for a moment. "I do."

"Would you pray…with me?" she asked.

"Yes." And Dave did.

* * *

Prentiss had never seen Hoch so angry. But she understood, and while he threw questions at her with lightning speed, she stood still and let him have his say.

"I don't know what's going on. The logical part of me, the unit chief, knows that even though women are turning up murdered and/or missing by an UNSUB we still can't identify, there is a reasonable explanation."

Prentiss didn't respond. Hotch continued.

"Now I have my senior team leader off the radar, not answering his phone, you staying at your mother's suddenly, and the phone number I take from Rossi's recall list is to your phone. I have to believe that there is an answer for this. I trust you Prentiss, you have never lied to me, and you've always had my back and the backs of the team. So, I need you to be honest with me: What the hell is going on?"

Prentiss took a deep breath to calm her nerves. This was not how she planned on telling Hotch. Dave should be here with her but he wasn't and now it was her responsibility to try to explain why they had been presenting a lie to their friends.

Prentiss felt her heart breaking and the stinging tears behind her eyes, but held her head up. No matter what happened, no matter the consequences, she was going to survive this, and she was _not_ going to cry.

"Answer me Prentiss, _what the hell is going on_?" Hotch repeated.

Raising her eyes, she looked him dead centre. "We're married," she whispered and closed her eyes.

Hotch knew his ears were playing tricks on him. "What did you say?"

Prentiss fought the urge to throw up from the butterflies going crazy in her stomach. "I'm on Dave's phone list because…we're married. He's my husband." Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Hotch went to reply but couldn't find the words. Pushing away from the desk, he stood up and turned his back to her. "How long?"

"A year last month."

"Why?"

"We were going to tell you."

"But you lied to me."

"Not intentionally. He was going to tell you, but I didn't think the time was right. Then he got the letters and I was the one who wanted to tell you but Dave thought my life might be in danger."

"Is that why you are staying with your mother at the embassy?"

"That was Dave's idea. I was going to stay at my place, but he felt the risk was too high. I'm sorry Hotch."

Hotch turned to face her. The look on his face said everything. "Sorry? Both you and Rossi not only broke the rules, but you lied to me and you deliberately lied to the team. Now you're telling me you're sorry? And on top of everything else, I have to suspend you. This now leaves me an agent short- which is something I can't afford right now. And when Dave gets in, I will have to suspend him too. Now I'm two agents short with a sadistic killer roaming around doing revenge killings. And you're sorry."

Prentiss felt the room spin. This wasn't happening. _Where was Dave?_ She tried to take several deep breaths but nothing seemed to help. Opening her mouth to refute what Hotch had just said, Prentiss was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Grabbing the receiver, Hotch snapped a hello and listened.

"Are you sure? Did you check around the area? And the guy in the store? You questioned him thoroughly? What about the road assistance guy? Where the hell did he go? Where? Don't touch anything; I'll be there in thirty minutes. I don't care what the police say; this is a federal agent which makes it a federal case. If he has a problem with it, then he can call me or Strauss. I understand. Keep me posted. Thank you." Hotch hung up the phone.

Looking at he woman standing in his office, Hotch, not for the first time, cursed being Unit Chief. "Prentiss, I need you to sit down."

"No, I'm fine."

"There is something I need to tell you. I need you to take a seat."

Prentiss knew that what ever transpired on the phone was not good news, but whatever it was, she could handle it. And she was going to handle it standing up.

"Agent Prentiss. Sit. Down. Now," Hotch ordered. Prentiss did what she was told. "That was Agent Brickford. I sent him out to find out why Rossi hasn't shown up." Hotch took a breath. "Dave's missing."

Prentiss looked at Hotch. "What? What do you mean 'missing'?"

"They found his car at the Dunkin Donuts with his cell phone on the seat, but Dave was no where around."

She shook her head to clear it. "Why was he at the Dunkin Donuts?"

"He got a flat tire. He called me to say that he was waiting for roadside assistance. There's more," Hotch continued. "They found some blood on the ground by his car." Prentiss stood up.

_Oh God! Oh God! _she whispered half pleading and half praying.

"They questioned the guy who works there and he didn't recall hearing a gunshot. So it's possible that Dave was overpowered."

"I want to help," Prentiss announced.

"No. You're on suspension. There is no way I am going to let you anywhere near this case."

"Why?"

"Conflict of interest."

Prentiss's eyes narrowed. "Conflict of interest? Up until fifteen minutes ago you didn't have a problem with 'conflict of interest'. Now it's the reason I am being kicked off the case?"

"You're too close."

"I'm too close? Why? Because I'm married to my former partner? He and I have teamed together how many times over the past year without any problems? That's bullshit and you know it!"

"I can't allow it. FBI regs state that both of you will be put on administrative leave until a review board can assess the situation and one of you will be reassigned."

"Hotch, you are the only person who knows this; please, I'm asking as an FBI agent to keep me on the case -at least until we can find this son of a bitch."

Hotch was torn. He knew where she was coming from and knew that her expertise would be vital to locating Rossi and Mischa Hinkley, but at the same time, the unit chief in him wondered if she could remain unbiased. Unfortunately it wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

"Prentiss, I can't. And I have to notify Strauss. If anything were to happen, the ramifications could hurt the bureau."

Angry tears clogged her eyes and her throat. "So, just like that I'm off the case? I can't do anything but sit at home and wonder what I could have done?" she asked. Hotch stayed silent. "For one whole year I've worked by my partner without even one problem. And now that he's a possible victim of a serial killer who wants to kill him for revenge of some type, I am going to be biased."

Hotch sighed. "Emily-"

_I'm not going to cry; I'm not going to cry,_ Prentiss chanted to herself. "That man is not only my husband and lover, but he's my partner and part of my team. And I know the number one rule of being a team is: 'Never leave a man behind.' I'll lie low, but if something happens and I could have made a difference and didn't, I'll never be able to live with myself." Emily Prentiss never begged for anything a day in her life. But this was different; this situation was different.

"If anything happens, I will take full responsibility in front of Strauss and the review board," she finished.

Hotch knew what he needed to do, but as he looked at the grief stricken agent in his office trying so hard to maintain her composure, he realized she had a point. His senior agent had been abducted and could possibly be dead or dying and he was worried about rules and regs. He had never doubted Prentiss or Rossi before and he wasn't going to start now. There would be enough time to work this out, right now he needed to find his agent and capture a bad guy.

"Okay. This one time. But the second you let this get personal, I'm kicking you off the team," Hotch announced.

"Thank you."

For the second time in his life, Hotch did something out of character as he stepped forward and took Prentiss into his arms. With more gentleness than anyone would have thought possible, he held her as she wept on his shoulder.

"Go ahead, Emily," he comforted. "Let it out."

And she did.


	10. Chapter 10

_Well, the cat is out of the bag. How will the team react? And Strauss finds yet another way to inject herself into the investigation. Two clues come to light that might be able to identify the UNSUB, while Dave and Mischa fight for their lives._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**No Place Left To Fall**

The SUV carrying Morgan, JJ, and Reid sped down the road to Rossi's crime scene. The mood was subdued and restrained. Nothing much got past them and the latest news that two of their team were partners in every way that mattered in the eyes of the law and God had thrown them for a loop.

Shortly after Prentiss cried her last tear, Hotch had called the team in to inform them that it appeared Rossi had been abducted by the UNSUB. Before they could grasp the meaning of what had just happened, Prentiss confessed that she had been lying to them for a year.

Overwhelmed and stupefied, the three remaining team members left to get to the crime scene and assess the situation before Hotch and Prentiss showed up.

Driving as fast as he dared, Morgan didn't take his eyes off the road even though his thoughts were racing at a hundred miles a minute.

"I would have never suspected," he muttered to no one in particular. He knew that Rossi was an expert interrogator and hostage negotiator, but Morgan had always thought the senior agent was just an okay profiler. He was sure he could read Rossi in a heartbeat and know his game. Boy, oh boy had they all been duped.

"I can't wait to get home and tell Will," JJ replied as she stared out the passenger window. A small smile adorned her lips as she thought about her two friends. Their news certainly explained a lot. The shy secret smiles she caught between them when they thought no one was looking. Then her heart constricted. How cruel was it that everything went downhill so quickly?

She couldn't imagine what Em was going thru at this moment. Seeing her in Hotch's office looking so sad…it was all JJ could do not to go over and give her friend a hug. Saying a small prayer, she hoped things would work out for the best. She didn't want to imagine what would happen otherwise.

"I knew," Reid spoke up.

Morgan turned his head to look toward the backseat. "What do you mean you knew? You still don't understand the term 'Sin to Win' kid, so I doubt that you saw the signs."

"Want to bet?" Reid challenged.

Surprised by the forwardness, Morgan chuckled. "I'll take that bet. Anything you want. Deal?"

"Sure," Reid shrugged. "I knew because one morning Emily came in early to work, and as I passed by her desk, I saw a one-carat blue diamond on her left hand. Later, when we were at the conference table, it was gone."

"Right there, I know you are wrong. Prentiss never gets into work early. In addition, if she forgot her ring once, she would forget twice. I know Prentiss pretty well. You owe me kid."

Pulling the SUV into an empty space, Morgan shut off the engine. Jumping out, he briskly walked over to Agent Brickford.

"Hey Derek. This is what we found." Brickford pointed to the interior of the cab and the blood on the asphalt. "The door was closed and locked with the keys still in the ignition. You think our UNSUB took the time to close the door to keep the rain from ruining the interior?

Morgan took off his sunglasses. "No. He closed the door to keep from calling attention to himself and what he was doing. The locking of the door with the keys inside prevents anyone from being able to access the vehicle for clues."

"Should we bust the window?" Brickford asked.

JJ noticed Hotch pulling up. "Not yet," she cautioned. "Hey Hotch. We need to access Rossi's car for clues, but it's locked. They want to break a window."

Prentiss reached into the SUV for her purse. Grabbing the key chain, she hit the button to unlock the door. JJ threw a smile at Morgan and Reid.

Pulling the handle, Hotch leaned inside. A quick check revealed Rossi's coffee, cell, and a box of donuts. Seeing nothing out of place, he stood up. "I think Rossi was approached outside the vehicle and then over powered." He studied the taped off area and tried not to be too apparent to the small crowd, which had gathered.

"You think this guy was lying in wait?" Brickford asked.

Morgan bent over to look at the parking space beside Rossi's car. "This oil is fresh. I do not think he was lying in wait; Rossi would have had his guard up. You said the guy inside swears Rossi was in the store for about fifteen minutes?"

"The storm was pretty bad. Rossi ordered a cup of coffee, got an order, then left. He didn't see anything. Why is that?"

Morgan looked at the angle of the building to where the team of investigators was standing. "There's no way any one at the counter could have seen anything. This guy is good. He's real good." Sunlight flashed quickly to momentarily blind him. Blinking to clear his vision, he groaned. "Oh shit!"

"What?" Hotch asked.

"Strauss."

Everyone braced for what was about to go down as the BAU Director stepped out of the SUV with her head held high. Marching over to Hotch she kept her eyes focused on the Unit Chief as she snapped: "There better be a damn good explanation for why my agent was alone long enough to be abducted." Looking at Prentiss, she twitched her lip. "Nice ring. Is it new?" she observed.

JJ ducked her head to suppress the silly smile that flashed across her face. Morgan took a second glance and looked at Reid who was rocking back on his heels. Hotch fought the urge to smile.

"I hope that whatever the joke is, it's a good one," Strauss commented coldly. "I am expecting a complete briefing right this moment, Agent Hotchner. I hope you have one."

"Yes ma'am," Hotch replied and launched into what he knew up to that moment.

JJ's phone went off. Answering it, she listened carefully. Nodding twice, she hung up. "Hotch? I hate to interrupt," she called out. "That was Garcia. The cross checks on the zip-ties red flagged, and a couple of neighbours recall seeing a car circling the Hinkley's block."

Hotch looked at his agents. "Prentiss, Morgan, get over there and see what you can find out. Reid, get with Garcia. I'm going to stay here and continue briefing the director."

Morgan passed by Reid who commented: "Anything I want, right?"

Yanking open the door, Morgan sat down and started the engine. Prentiss followed and buckled her seat belt.

"What did that mean?" she asked.

"That I need to stop doubting Reid," Morgan replied and put the SUV in drive.

* * *

"So, you recall seeing a red Fiat circling the neighbourhood?" Prentiss asked. "Are you sure?"

"I'm a mechanic, so I know a Fiat when I see one."

"Did you get a good look at the guy?"

"More than a good look; I talked to him. Smarmy kind of character, if you want my opinion. He wanted directions to a street that doesn't even exist in this area."

Morgan pulled back. "Are you positive?"

"Son, I have lived in this neighbourhood for thirty-five years; I'm the president of the Homeowner's Association and helped decide on most of the street names. There has never been a Pewter street, and I will swear to it."

"What did this guy look like?" Prentiss asked.

"About six foot, blonde, slim build. He looked normal, but his eyes seemed dead. And his accent was not from around here."

"What do you mean?"

"It was a mid-western accent like he was from Missouri or Iowa."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, he had black eyebrows. I thought it was strange that someone with white blonde hair would have black eyebrows."

"Bleach blonde possibly?" Prentiss thought aloud.

"No ma'am; true blonde. I know because my three daughters were born tow-heads."

"Was there anything else you remember?"

"Yes… I jotted down the license plate number; I am also in charge of the Neighbourhood Crime Watch." Pulling out the paper from his pocket, he handed it over to Morgan who handed it to Prentiss. "I hope this helps."

"More than you'll ever know."

Prentiss closed her notebook. "Thank you. If there is anything else you remember, please call us." Her phone rang. Excusing herself, Prentiss walked over to the SUV. "Yes, Garcia?"

"Hello Agent Rossi," came the perky greeting. "That is so weird to say that and hear your voice on the other end."

"You heard?"

"Never a secret in the FBI, you should know that. Although I am so sorry to have let the cat out of the bag. I swear, when I pulled up the list and saw E Rossi, I thought it was his sister. It wasn't until I placed the call that I realized Rossi doesn't have a sister."

"Don't worry about it Pen; no harm no foul. So what's up?"

"Well, my little bride, I did that cross reference for Reid on the zip-ties, which you may already know. Anyway, I checked on the sales receipts and my gut was correct; both purchases were made with the same zip code: Kansas."

"Really?"

"Unfortunately the purchases were made with cash."

"Oh."

"Don't hang up yet because there's more. I made a couple of phone calls to the stores to see if they remembered who did the purchasing and they did. They described him as creepy quiet…like a loner."

"Creepy like disgusting creepy?" Prentiss asked.

Garcia laughed lightly. "No, that would have been too easy. This creepy was his extraordinary looks. I know extraordinary looks- I set the standard, but this guy came across it naturally. Stark white blonde hair and -"

"Black eyebrows," Prentiss finished.

"My, my, my, you are good! I am beyond impressed! It's true that marriage boosts your IQ. I guess that's why I didn't make it legal with Kevin."

"Didn't you want to boost his IQ?"

"Tempting thought chica, but I love having all of this power. I could never share."

"You are definitely one twisted tech analyst."

"I consider that a compliment."

"Pen, a neighbour of the Hinkley's gave me a tag number, could you check it out?"

"I would rather give you a set of heirloom china, but sure. Go ahead."

"Whiskey Tango Golf Five Seven Romeo Alpha Seven."

"You know phonetics. My second favourite language."

"I don't think I want to know. Any hits?"

"Sweetie, I might be great, but I'm still at the mercy of computer technology. Give me a couple of hours. Oh, by the way, I erased that number off the list, and any reference to your nuptials has been buried under _mounds _of government red tape."

"You're the best Pen."

"Don't ever forget it. I'm out."

"Bye." Flipping the phone closed, Prentiss walked to the SUV. Morgan followed. Quietly he started the engine.

"Garcia?" Morgan asked.

"Yep. Seems the guy driving around here, made the zip-tie purchases. Garcia is running the tags right now."

Morgan reached out and took Prentiss's left hand. Carefully he studied the ring. "Beautiful. Rossi has great taste."

"He should; he's been married three times."

"Don't you mean four?"

"Still trying to get used to it."

"Princess, you've been married for a year; I think that's more than enough time to get used to it."

"I meant that I'm used to it in secret, but it's still overwhelming to have it out in the public."

Morgan ran his thumb over the flawless diamond. A look of sadness crossed his face. "Dave's a lucky man."

Prentiss covered his hand with hers. "More than he'll ever know."

"Strauss isn't going to find out from any of us."

"Thanks." She buckled her seat belt. "Let's get going. I have a feeling Garcia is going to have news for us by the time we get back."

"That woman is a miracle worker," Morgan remarked with disbelief and put engine in drive.

"That she is."

* * *

Dave was exhausted from pain, hunger, and sitting in one position for too long. Leaning forward, he tried to take the pressure off his shoulders and get the blood flowing back to his fingers. As the nerves burned, he breathed a sigh that the circulation hadn't been completely cut off.

"Mischa? Are you alright?" he called out.

"I'm hungry," she replied. "I want to go home."

"I know. You have to stay strong. We have people looking for us."

"You asked me if I remember anything, and I do: he had blonde hair -like white blonde- and black eyebrows."

Dave paused. "Are you sure?"

"Y-yes."

Dave caught his breath. There was something familiar about Mischa's description, but he couldn't put his finger on why. The harder he tried to will it, the more evasive it became, and the more his head throbbed.

Footsteps on the stairs made him straighten up.

"Well, hello Agent Rossi. Good to see that you survived the trip. Would have defeated the purpose if you had died before I had the chance to kill you."

Dave stayed silent as he analyzed the UNSUB's every word.

"What? Nothing brilliant to say? No smart comment? Did you use all the big words writing those best sellers?" No comment. Suddenly a fist slammed against Dave's face. "Answer me you arrogant fuck!"

Dave said nothing. Another fist hit him. Repeatedly. He felt his lip begin to swell, as he tasted blood on his tongue.

"I want to hear you beg for mercy you lying shit."

As tempting as it was to respond, Dave literally bit his tongue. He knew that anything he said would just set the UNSUB off, and as painful as the beating was, it was the best way to make a profile.

Dave braced himself for what came next.

By the time it was done, Dave knew he had descended into hell. He tried to catch his breath despite the protest from his ribs. Curled on the dirt floor, Dave felt his face swell from the punches.

"You think you're so smart, but I'm the one in charge now and I'm going to show you as much mercy as you did to my father." Leaving Dave, the UNSUB went over to Mischa and threw her over his shoulder.

"No, no, no," Mischa cried weakly.

"Time for a little fun," he told her in a singsong tone. Walking to the stairs, he turned back to look at Dave. "I'll have a turn for you." Then he disappeared.

Dave lay where he had fallen but he wasn't about to go down without a fight. Too many people depended on him. And one in particular needed him to remain strong and find a way out of this man made hell. He couldn't disappoint her. Their lives depended on it.

But right now his lungs and body were on fire and his head throbbed painfully. As he heard the screams from upstairs, Dave closed his eyes and willingly succumbed to the sweet painless oblivion calling his name.


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay, well the team has been thrown for a loop over Em's announcemnt, but they are family and will band together to protect their own. Garcia is going to discover critical clues that will help point the team in the right direction. At the same time, Dave comes clean with Mischa. How will she handle the news?_

_I don't own Criminal Minds. Any legal reference mistakes are all mine._

**No Place Left To Fall**

The team sat around the BAU conference table as Garcia filled them in with the latest news.

"Okay, here's the deal: I ran the plates and found out the car was reported stolen a month ago from a Wal-Mart in Topeka. Right around the time the first batch of zip-ties were purchased from the Tru-Value. And about four days before our first victim went missing."

"But the letters were mailed from Kansas. If he was in a stolen car, there would have been an APB out on him. I doubt that he would have risked going back," Prentiss remarked.

"Exactly my pretty! I matched the fingerprints with the letters to the ones we found on the flyer and guess what? They don't match!"

"What!" Morgan spoke out. "How is that possible?"

"Because he has an accomplice," Hotch supplied.

"Right you are Mr. Boss man! But catch this, the third letter came from Virginia, but the envelope with the pictures was sent from Kansas. And the fingerprints on the pictures matched the first two letters."

"This is making my head spin," JJ declared and took a sip of water.

"So, whoever is his accomplice would have sole access to those photos because Rossi claimed that there were two photos taken that night. Garcia, can you find out who was on duty that night?"

"Already on it. I did a complete background check on the guards, doctors, coroner, and reporters there that night. All checked out."

"But how did someone get a copy of the photo?" Morgan asked.

Garcia rolled her eyes. "Oh my stud muffin extraordinaire," she chastised Morgan, "When will you ever learn not to doubt me? Because I already checked that out and the photographer that night was a Judy Simkis. I also found out that she accompanied Gifford's lawyer to the prison visits."

"Did she have any children?"

"No. But she adopted a son in 1987. A three year old boy. That boy's name was Carter Branson Fontaine. She had it legally changed to Simkis when he was twelve. I have a picture of our possible UNSUB." Garcia pulled a photo onto the screen. An angry young man with white blond hair and black eyebrows stared back at the team.

"Garcia, do you have an address for Judy Simkis?"

"Thought you'd never ask. 11384 Glengarry River Road, Kansas City, Kansas. I'm sending the GPS coordinates to your I-Pad so when you land, you'll be able to just head out there."

"Garcia…" Hotch began.

"Boss, I already know: there are no words to describe me," she boasted. She clicked off the screen.

"JJ, Reid, are you up for a trip to Kansas?"

"Sure. Guess we're leaving in thirty minutes?"

"As soon as I can brief Strauss." Hotch left the room. Three sets of eyes stared at Prentiss.

"What?" she asked suddenly self-conscious.

JJ stepped over to her. "Come here." Grabbing Prentiss in a bear hug, JJ held her tight. "Congratulations. Agent Rossi."

"Thank you." Prentiss felt her cheeks grow hot.

JJ pulled back and grabbed Prentiss's left hand. "Let me see that thing. Oh my gosh! Em, is this for real?" Prentiss nodded. "Mind if I borrow it to show Will what he needs to get me?"

"No. I think I went long enough not wearing it; I am never parting with it again."

Morgan took Prentiss in his arms. "We're going to find him, you know that, right?"

Prentiss blinked back the tears. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry; I'm not supposed to make this personal."

"Hey, we're on break so everything can be personal," JJ amended. "You do realize that Garcia and I are going to throw you a long overdue wedding reception?"

"Considering Dave and I are both going to be suspended when all this is over, we will have plenty of time to help you with the arrangements."

"So, it's going to happen?" Morgan asked.

Prentiss sighed deeply. "We broke the rules. Although they can't fire us, they can put a letter in our permanent record."

"I can't wait to see Strauss blow a brain cell," JJ stated.

"You know guys," Reid spoke up. "It's medically impossible to blow a brain cell. Most cells die a natural death and have little to no side effects on people because they are being replaced faster than-"

JJ held up her hands. "Spence, it was just a figure of speech." Giving Prentiss another hug, JJ gathered her folders. "Come on, we have to get ready to leave." She gave one last hug to her friend. "Call me tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

Reid walked over and gave Prentiss a hug. "Congratulations. We're going to find him and bring him home." Stepping back, he followed JJ.

Prentiss started cleaning up the table. Blindly she reached for the pens and missed. She pressed a finger to the corner of her eye. Morgan came over to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey Princess, sit down. You've had a long day. Let me get this."

"Thanks. I suppose you're driving me home tonight."

"I'm also spending the night. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere near Rossi's woman."

"Afraid he might shoot you?" Prentiss teased.

"More afraid of his woman; I still remember how you shot at that one UNSUB and swore you only fired three times, but you emptied your clip. No thank you!"

"What would I do without you guys?"

"That's a damn good question Princess; let me know when you come up with an answer." Looking at his watch, he stood up. "I think it's time to get you home."

"Sounds good. I'm buying dinner."

"Now that is the second best thing I've heard all day."

"What was the first?"

"That somebody finally made an honest man out of David Rossi."

Prentiss gave him a little nudge in the side with her elbow. "I love you Derek Morgan."

"I love you too Princess."

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable on the couch?" Emily asked as she handed the pillows and blanket to Morgan.

"I'd sleep on the floor in your room, but I don't think Mudgie is going to let me anywhere near you."

The black lab wagged his tail at the mention of his name, but stuck close to his mistress. The thrill of having Emily back in the house was apparent as the huge dog literally knocked Em down upon arrival. It had taken everything to get Mudgie to calm down. From that moment on, the dog barely left Em's side.

"Out of curiosity, whose dog is that?" Morgan asked as he arranged the pillows.

"Dave's."

"I thought so." Giving a sweet kiss to Em's forehead, Morgan pulled back as Mudgie gave a deep growl. "Remind me again why I'm spending the night?"

"To give yourself peace of mind."

"Okay. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." He watched Emily climb the stairs. Lying down on the couch, Morgan reached for the lamp and switched it off. With his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling for a long time before falling asleep.

Emily reached the second floor landing and made her way to the master bedroom. Stopping off at the bathroom, she freshened up before changing into her nightgown.

Heading to the bed, she pulled the covers back and got under them. Rolling over, she reached for Dave's pillow and pressed it to her face. Breathing in deeply, she felt a stray tear escape.

Concerned for his mistress, Mudgie jumped on to the bed and lay down beside Em, his head resting on her hip. Softly he whined to keep her company.

Feeling the soft furry body beside her, Em reached down and stroked Mudgie's head. She wiped her eyes. No more crying, she promised herself. Tears weren't going to bring Dave and Mischa back, and they sure weren't going to help catch the UNSUB.

"I'm okay Mudgie; I just miss him," she explained. Mudgie whined softly. "I know. He'll be home soon. I promise."

It was a promise she intended to keep.

* * *

Dave's heart broke just to hear Mischa's weeping. He had come out of his unconsciousness hearing her crying. Without light to check his watch, he had no idea what time it was or how long he had been out.

He tried to move, but his body screamed in refusal so he just lay on the dirt and tried to take deep breaths to ward off the nausea. He was pretty sure he had a couple of broken ribs and a severe concussion. And there was no doubt that his nose was broken…again. But all of his injuries paled next to the hell Mischa was going thru.

"Mischa, are you alright?"

"Why is he doing this?" she asked pitifully.

"I don't know. No, I do." Dave paused. "I don't think you're going to want to hear what I have to say."

"He's hurt me. There has to be a reason."

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"No. But I have to know."

"In 1984, there was a rash of murders on three military bases. Ten women were abducted, raped, mutilated, and murdered. Some of them were so bad, that I can't even describe what I saw. I was working with the FBI at the time and trying to set up a new unit called the Behavioural Analyst Unit. We would take an UNSUB -unknown subject -dissect his behaviour and actions and try to figure out what his next step would be."

"Like a strategy?"

"Yes, honey, exactly. I was the chief investigator and I was the one who laid out the profile of our UNSUB. It turned out to be an Army enlisted man by the name of James Lee Gifford. He had had a rough childhood and joined the Army. But he had a lot of psychological problems. But he was also a good soldier. The military tried to 'fix' him, so to speak. He had two failed marriages during that time and fell into a deep depression. The meds the doctors gave him made him worse, but only because they didn't know he was doing cocaine and LSD."

Rossi stopped long enough to clear his lungs from the dust he was breathing in.

"He abducted his first woman not long after he broke up with his second wife. Two more followed. Six months later he was transferred to another command and the killings continued. He went AWOL and two more women turned up dead. We didn't put two and two together until a clue provided by a woman who survived an attack gave us a critical identifying mark. But even that wasn't enough to warrant us arresting him because at the time, he was on duty."

He let her digest that information before continuing.

"We questioned him and let him go. When the next woman turned up missing and then murdered, I suggested him as a possible UNSUB. We needed bait to draw him in. One of the guys on my team suggested a young woman to play that part. She was identical to the other victims and we knew he couldn't resist. When he made his move, we captured him. Back then, there was no DNA, but there was enough evidence to link him to the victims.

"The trial was quick and the verdict came back guilty. His sentencing was quite a show on all the news channels as the judge advocate gave him the death penalty for the gruesome deaths of eight women. Gifford's attorney tried to get the sentencing over turned because it came to light that the woman we used as bait had been sexually assaulted by two officers a few years earlier. We got it suppressed but they still tried to use it against us saying we deliberately railroaded their client."

"Did you? Railroad him, that is?"

"No sweetheart, everything was by the book. One difference between the military and civilian courts is that instead of one judge and jury, you are presenting to a panel of officers who are lawyers. And to get a death penalty, you have to expertly present your case without any chance of it being over turned or a mistrial being declared. It's a very rigorous process. Also, when the death penalty is handed down, the death warrant must be signed by the President of The United States. So all of your ducks have to be in a row.

"This is where it gets tricky, and you have to listen carefully. There are two legal terms a defendant can use to appeal his case. One is a writ of habeas corpus. That means that the defendant was unjustly imprisoned and denied the right to be presented in front of a judge after his arrest. He wasn't. But the law states that a defendant can file just about anything to help his case.

"But the execution was going forward. The last person put to death by the military was in 1961, so this was a big deal. Two weeks before the execution Gifford's attorney filed a writ of habeas relief. Had that gone thru, Gifford's death sentence would have been overturned. But it wasn't and the death warrant that had been signed by President Reagan was put into effect."

"You were there," Mischa sniffled.

"What?"

"You were there that night. It makes sense that you would capture him and you would see him die."

"Yes," Dave replied. "I was there. I watched them put this sick, psychopath to death. But before he died, he cursed me. He vowed vengeance from the grave…on me. Now women are turning up death in the same way Gifford killed his victims."

"Who do you think is doing this?"

"A relative or someone who admires Gifford. This person is very sick and will stop at nothing to get revenge…on me."

"Why you?"

"Because he thinks that I am the reason Gifford was sentenced to death. I was one of a dozen people on that team. All I did was create the profile and okay the bait. Other than that, I really didn't have much say in the trial or the testimony. In fact, I was back in Quantico during most of the trial. I was present for the verdict, though. After I left the FBI, I started writing books about my experiences as an agent. I wrote about the Gifford case. It was turned into a TV movie, so I think that's how the case got back on the radar.

"Three weeks ago a military woman went missing. She turned up dead over a week later. During that same time, another military woman went missing. She too, turned up dead. Around the time of the third woman's disappearance, I received a letter vowing revenge for killing Gifford."

"'The guy who started all of this?"

"Yes. Two more letters arrived along with a picture taken that night. That picture showed the faces of all the people present when Gifford was put to death. Now the person seeking revenge on behalf of Gifford is trying to make me pay for what he believes is a miscarriage of justice."

"So, how do I fit in?" Mischa asked.

"There is no easy way to tell you this Mischa, but you are what we describe as 'collateral damage'. I think he took your dog and used the flyers to approach you so you drop your guard. Once he had you, he knew that the FBI would guard me. All he had to do was wait for the right moment for me to be alone so he could… I did, and he did, and this is where everything has come together."

"So he doesn't know me or those other women, but he killed them so he could kill you for killing his…whatever?"

"Basically."

"And the rapes?"

"His way of torturing me. He knows that I can't do anything to stop him so he's taking his anger out on you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Mischa."

"And that is why he beat you up?"

"Yes."

For a long time Mischa was quiet. Dave knew that she needed time to digest everything he had told her. He would understand if she no longer trusted him since he was the reason she was here.

"Dave?" Mischa's small voice spoke thru the darkness.

"Yes?" Dave answered his heart dropping.

"Thank you for telling me the truth."

"You're welcome."

"I have to think about it."

"I understand."

Dave closed his eyes. He did, he just hoped and prayed she would.


	12. Chapter 12

_The team finally finds a lead that takes them to Kansas with some startling revelations, but will this get them a step closer to finding Dave and Mischa? Reid takes centre stage as he conducts his first interrogation. I'm not sure, but I believe he did pretty well. Please let me know what you think. Sorry about the short chapter._

I don't own Criminal Minds.

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

Hotch, JJ, and Reid sat in the SUV as it sped down the residential road to the home of Judy Simkis. A quick background check revealed that she was a stay at home self-employed photographer. With any chance, she would be home and able to answer their questions. It was now going on 24 hours since Dave's disappearance and 48 hours for Mischa Hinkley. Time was running out.

"I'm talking with Garcia; she is having trouble pulling the records on the Simkis adoption. So far, she keeps hitting walls," JJ commented as she continued texting to the BAU analyst.

"Tell her to keep trying. We are almost there and we need all the information to present our case. If Judy Simkis is behind this, we can't risk her running. Two lives are at stake."

"Hotch, I-."

_"Tell her to keep trying!"_ Hotch snapped. JJ sighed. The BAU jet had landed in Kansas a little past midnight and by the time the three of them had found a room and passed out from exhaustion, it was time to get up and formulate their profiles.

They were all under a tremendous amount of stress and it seemed to be getting worse.

Reid looked down at the GPS. "It's the next house on the left."

Pulling up to the curb, the three agents stepped out of the SUV and walked up the short concrete path to the front door. Delivering three sharp knocks, Hotch stood back and waited. Hearing a chain rattle and the turn of the deadbolt, the agents waited with restrained anticipation.

Slowly the door opened and a woman poked her head around the side. "Yes?"

"Judy Simkis?" Hotch asked. She nodded. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. This is SSA Jarreau and Dr Reid. May we come in?"

Surprised, she opened the door fully and waved them in. "Please come in. Sorry about the mess; I've been a little under the weather."

Hotch stayed in the middle of the room while Reid spied the tabletops for clues.

Judy pulled the tie around her robe tighter. "You said you're with the FBI?"

"Yes ma'am. We're investigating several rapes and murders of military women in the Virginia area."

"Virginia is quite a distance from Kansas. I am not sure how I am involved with a murder in Virginia. I've never even been there."

"We believe the person responsible is styling his killings to mirror James Lee Gifford."

At the name, Judy went white. Blindly she reached for the high back chair. Reid and JJ rushed over to help her sit down.

"Are you alright?" JJ asked.

Judy tried to catch her breath. "My inhaler. Please. On the divan." Reid looked over and saw the red encased propellant. Handing it to her, the team watched as she took two inhalants. Slowly, she began to relax.

"You know the name?" Hotch asked, unmoved by what had transpired.

"That is a name I haven't heard in a while," Judy replied.

"So you know him?"

"Unfortunately yes."

Reid spied a photo and picked it up. He tried to figure out where he had seen the person in the photo but came up blank. Then it dawned on him. The resemblance was striking.

"Ms. Simkis," Reid began.

"Call me Judy."

"Judy, I couldn't help but notice this photo on your desk. The three people in it with you are…?" he prompted and handed her the frame.

"My brother Ryan, my sister Frances, and my other sister Colleen. Why?"

"Did you all have the same mother and father?"

"Colleen was my foster sister. We took her in when she was seven. I don't understand."

"You didn't have any children, did you?" Reid inquired. Hotch wondered where the questioning was going but decided that since Reid had developed a report with the woman, he could continue.

"No. I couldn't."

"But didn't you adopt a boy in 1987?"

"Yes. I helped foster him."

"Why?"

"Why did I foster him and then adopt him?"

"No, why did you wait until he was twelve years old to change his name?"

"I don't understand. What are you asking me?"

"Judy, you said that your younger sister Colleen was a foster child. What was her last name?"

Judy thought for a moment. "Uh, Fontaine. Why?"

"Was her little boy named Carter Branson Fontaine?"

"Yes. I-"

"Where is his mother now?"

"A halfway house I think. She was institutionalized back in 1985 and I think I heard that she was released in 2005. But I don't know. We lost touch."

"After you petitioned for custody of her infant son?"

"Why yes. Agents, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to know, but if I need a lawyer…"

Reid pulled up a chair and sat down across from her. "Judy, I'm going to ask you a few questions and I need some honest answers. The lives of two people are depending on your honesty."

"Okay," Judy whispered.

"Colleen is Carter's mother, correct?"

"Yes."

"His father is James Lee Gifford?"

"Yes."

"You were the photographer who usually accompanied Gifford's lawyer for meetings in prison?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They wouldn't let Colleen make phone calls to the prison because he was on death row. So, I would pass on news about Colleen and the baby to him."

"You took the picture that night of the execution?"

"Yes."

"And you knew who was in it?"

Judy shook her head. "No. I didn't. I swear. I gave it to Colleen."

"Why?'

"I don't know. I felt sorry for her. That the man she fell in love with was a serial killer. I wanted her to see the people who helped put him to death. I was trying to make her see that he was a bad man."

"You never knew that one of the people in the photo was an FBI agent who helped lead the investigation?"

Judy shook her head. "No. I didn't know any of them."

"Did you tell Carter who his parents were?"

"No. I didn't want him to know. I tried to give him a life free of knowing he had the genes of a serial killer and a mentally ill woman in his veins. I had to wait until he was twelve to change his name because every time I petitioned Colleen, she would refuse to waive her rights. The doctors said that the drugs made her lucid and she wasn't cognizant of her actions. Under the law, Carter could legally change his name at twelve."

"How did he find out about Colleen being his mother?"

"I think she contacted him. I tried to tell him that he didn't need to be involved with her and to let her go; that I was his mother. He seemed to be okay, but then he started skipping school and I think he started doing drugs. Then he disappeared for long periods of time."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No. But I found a letter from Colleen addressed to him and she was ranting about Gifford being railroaded and persecuted by an FBI agent named Roscoe who wrote a book."

"Rossi?" Reid corrected.

"I think that was his name. She wanted vengeance. I told Carter that I wouldn't stand for that in my house. He went wild, crazy, accusing me of helping murder his father. I tried to explain that his father was a bad guy. One day I found the book by that FBI agent and the picture I gave Colleen tucked in the pages with the word killer written across it. I threw Carter out that day. I told him that if he wanted to live with Colleen to go ahead. I was done supporting him."

"Where is the halfway house Colleen lives in?"

Judy tried to think. "Outside of Topeka, I think."

"Judy, I think Carter is responsible for the rape and murder of three women, and the abduction of another woman and an FBI agent."

Judy tried to speak but couldn't. Her eyes filled with tears. "No, that's not possible. I swear he has some bad genes, but he's a good kid."

Reid stood up. "May I take a look in Carter's room?" Judy nodded. Reid walked down the hall to a door painted black and opened it. For a long moment, no one spoke.

Returning to the living room, Reid held in his hand two zip-ties. "Judy, did you know about these?"

Her eyes widened. "No. I cleaned out his room. I swear. Wait! I was gone for about two weeks a month ago. I came home and thought I'd been burglarized. I think Carter broke in to have a place to stay. Then I never saw him again."

Reid looked closely at the zip-ties. "Hotch, the serial numbers match the ones used on Ensign Brown." Hotch dialed Garcia.

"What are you saying?" Judy pleaded.

"Judy, it's more than likely that Carter is picking up where his father left off to help clear his name."

"I don't…I don't…I…"

Reid held up the photo Garcia had found. "Is this Carter?"

"Oh my god!"

Hotch hung up. His face mirrored anger and frustration. "You have to tell me where Colleen is. This is a matter of life and death."

"I swear. If I knew, I would tell you. I don't want anything to do with her."

"Think damnit!" Hotch thundered. "My agent's life depends on it! Now where is Colleen?"

"Hotch," JJ cautioned.

"I'm asking one more time and then I'm dragging you out of here in handcuffs. Where is Colleen staying?"

Judy looked frantically at the agents. "My brother Ryan, he keeps in touch with her. He would know."

"Call him."

Judy stood up and reached for the phone. Quickly she dialed. "Ryan? This is Judy. Something bad has happened. I need to know where Colleen is." She wrote down an address. "I think it has something to do with Carter. No, don't call her; I'll tell her. Bye." She hung up and handed the paper to Hotch.

"This is where she is staying," Judy supplied.

"Thank you," Reid responded.

Hotch flipped open his phone as he looked around. "Don't leave this house." Judy nodded. "Hello? Garcia? I need some directions sent to the GPS. And I need you to contact the Topeka law enforcement department ASAP!"

He rushed out the door to the SUV. Jumping in, he started the engine barely giving JJ and Reid a chance to catch up. Throwing the vehicle in drive, he peeled away from the curb, his eyes never straying from the road.

"Director Strauss? Aaron Hotchner. We have a lead. We are heading to Topeka. Have the plane meet us there. I will explain later." Flipping the phone shut, he reached over and turned on the flashers.

JJ and Reid looked at one another and buckled their seat belts.


	13. Chapter 13

_Well, the team is getting closer to finding their UNSUB and the clues are coming together, but the fates are going to throw a monkey wrench in for good measure. Dave reveals a few clues to his past as he tries to connect with Mischa who has a confession of her own._

_I don't own Criminal Minds.  
_

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

"Dave?" Mischa's voice cut thru the dark silence.

"Yes?"

"Are you asleep?" she asked apologetically.

"No su piccola. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Life. Regrets. Promises I made. The usual stuff."

"Oh. What is that you just called me?"

"Su piccola? It's Italian for my sweetheart."

"You're Italian?"

"Yes."

"Are you from Virginia?"

"New York. You?"

"Ohio. Gordon was transferred here before Lisel was born."

Dave shifted his weight. "How long have you been married?"

"Four years. You?"

"What?"

"How long have you been married?"

"A little over a year. How did you know?"

Mischa got quiet for a moment before confessing: "I heard you cry out for Tesoro. I figured that was your wife."

"That's alright."

"That's her name? Tesoro?"

"No, it's Emily. Tesoro is what I call her when…." Dave trailed off as he remembered the last time he called Emily that endearment: she had just finished making love to him. The memory of her holding him in her arms made him want to weep.

"What does she do?" Mischa asked quietly.

"She works at the FBI too. We're in the same department."

"So that's what you meant by 'people are looking for us'."

"Sort of. It's a team of people -actually, a team of the best people the FBI has to offer- looking for us. I'll bet anything that they've found the missing clue to find out who this guy is. If I know them at all, they're going to find us real soon."

"What if he kills us before they can find us?" Mischa asked plaintively.

Dave weighed his response. He didn't want to frighten her with the truth, but he didn't want to build her hopes up either. "I don't think he's going to kill us right away."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been studying criminals for nearly three decades and one thing I've learned is that the longer they keep you alive, the better the chance you have to get away. Since most abductors kill their victims within 24 hours, the fact that he has kept us alive for over two days is a tiny bit of hope that the team can locate us soon."

"He's doing this because he's afraid to kill us?"

Dave smiled at Mischa's insight. If she hadn't gone thru hell for him, he would offer her a job at the BAU. "In a way."

"But he killed those other women."

"That was different; he had to attract my attention and lure me in. Now that he has me, he has to rethink his strategy. I don't think he planned to keep you around but when he realized he could use you to his advantage that changed everything. He's finding that he's getting more pleasure torturing me psychologically than killing me outright."

"Do you think he's going to get tired of doing this?"

Dave sighed. "Yes. At any moment, he can snap and when he does, you and I are dead. As long as we don't fight back, he thinks he has the upper hand. You can't let him know that we know what is going on inside his head."

"How many more beatings do you think you can take?" Mischa asked fearfully.

"As many as I need to so I can ensure your safety. The more he focuses on me, the less likely he is to hurt you."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Dave gently corrected.

"Yes, I do; I wanted him to kill you," Mischa confessed tearfully. Dave had no reply. He had had a suspicion that the thought had gone thru her mind a few times since he confessed that he was the reason for her abduction and subsequent torture.

"I hated what you did to make him do this to me. I wanted it to be all your fault and I figured once he killed you then he would let me go."

"Sounds reasonable," Dave agreed. If he was in her shoes, he had no doubt he would be wishing for his death too.

"But that was wrong of me. He wants to kill both of us. And I know now that none of this is your fault. I forgive you."

"I forgive you su piccola."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, but I am going to do one better, if you trust me; I am going to make you a promise that you and I are going to walk out of here."

"Really?" For the first time in days Dave heard hope in her voice.

"Yes, but you have to promise me that no matter what happens you don't say anything. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Mischa heard grunting and panting. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Trying to get my hands in front of me. I don't know if I told you this, but when I lived in New York, I used to run with the Gambino Family. I made the mistake once of being on the wrong side of town and got picked up by a rival…gang." More grunting. "Son of a bitch!" Dave cursed. His shoulder was definitely feeling 'the burn'.

"Are you okay?"

Dave bit out an expletive in Italian to keep from offending her. "That fricking hurt! Anyway, they tied me up, threw me in the trunk of a Cadillac, and left me there. My hands and ankles were bound. To top it off, I was gagged so I couldn't call out for help. Shit!" he ground out as his foot became caught. "Sorry. Anyway, I found out that I could bring arms up a certain way to be in front of me. I eventually got myself free. I think I remember how to do it, but God this is going to hurt. I'd say cover your ears, but instead, I'm going to apologize."

The only thing worse than hearing Dave trying to free himself was being blindfolded and having to imagine it. Mischa tried to fight the tears as each grunt and curse reached her ears.

Dave was confident when he told Mischa that he could free himself; what he failed to tell her was that when the Matkosky Family bound him and left him for dead, he was thirty-seven years younger. Muscles and ligaments he hadn't tried in years were getting a work out. Oh, crap! That didn't feel right….he knew he had just given himself a charley-horse of gigantic proportions.

Fighting back vulgarities and pain worse than anything he could have imagined Dave felt his right leg slip thru his bound arms. Exhausted and drained, he lay still for a long moment and tried to catch his breath. The world was spinning, and the bile was rising from the level of pain his brain was unable to contain. Drawing on the knowledge that Mischa was depending on him; Dave gathered every bit of energy and pulled his left leg thru.

It was over. His arms were in front where they belonged, but the pain was excruciating. He was sure he ripped something in his shoulder and he could feel the blood running down his wrists from where the zip-ties cut into his flesh. But he was free…in a way. Now he just had to find a way to cut off the plastic wrist cuff.

"Mischa?" Dave groaned as he felt the world fade in and out thru gigantic bursts of colour. The bile threatened to gag him but he wanted to maintain some of his dignity.

"Yes?"

"I got it taken care of, but I have a slight problem."

"What's that?"

"I think I'm going to throw up or pass out. So forgive me."

"Okay," she replied. Waiting a moment for his reply, she realized he must have passed out. That was okay; her prayer had been answered. Everything was going to be okay.

Suddenly the door opened. "Hey sweet bitch," called out the voice she had come to hate. "Daddy's home!"

Resisting the urge to fight, Mischa heeded the words Dave told her about letting the UNSUB think he had the upper hand. So, when he pulled her forward, she let him carry her upstairs and away from the man who was going to save her life.

* * *

The SUV sped toward Topeka. Hotch was on a mission: to save his friend and mentor and no annoying speed limit signs were going to stop him. With lights flashing and JJ communicating with Strauss and Garcia, the drive was relatively uneventful -except for when the cow decided to cross the two-lane road. Expertly swerving, Hotch maintained the current speed. Reid, on the other hand, frantically tried to find his seat belt.

Securely fastened, for the first time in his young life, he closed his eyes and prayed. He also made a vow to never comment on Morgan's driving capabilities again.

JJ fought the urge to tell Hotch to slow down but decided against it…especially when Garcia called to inform them that the fingerprints on two of the letters matched Colleen Fontaine. That was all it took to find out what a government vehicle was capable of doing.

Patched thru to the Topeka Police department, JJ explained the situation and requested back up to the address. Mentally she calculated their ETA as less than one hour.

Hotch was right on time.

Wheels screeching, Hotch pulled into the Police department parking lot. Jumping out, they were greeted by the chief detective and police captain. A quick briefing and assembly of a SWAT team, they were ready to go.

Twenty minutes later the SUV containing the FBI profilers slammed to a stop beside the rundown shack. Donning their vests, they waited while the rest of the team got into position.

"We take her alive," Hotch explained. "She is the only person who knows where Carter Fontaine is; without her, our victim and agent are dead."

"Gotcha!" the SWAT chief affirmed. In minute detail, he relayed to the other members of the force what the plan detailed.

Securing his bulletproof vest in place, Hotch removed his sunglasses and motioned to JJ and Reid. "Reid, you go with the guys thru the side; JJ, you stay with me." Checking his weapon, he announced, "We go in on my command."

Quick and with purpose, a dozen armed officers took position around the building. On three, Hotch kicked the door in and announced, "FBI!"

The sound of a dish breaking filled the charged air as a woman stood stark still in the middle of the kitchen. His pistol aimed on target, Hotch shouted: "Colleen Fontaine?"

"Yes?"

"Put your hands on your head and lie down on the ground." Shakily the woman tried to comply. "Do you know where Carter Fontaine is?"

"No," she whispered.

"He's responsible for the murder of three women and the abduction of another and an FBI agent."

Frisking her quickly for weapons, a police officer nodded that all was clear. As he placed the handcuffs around her wrists, Hotch heard a mumble from the floor. "What did you say?" he asked, leaning in closer.

Turning her head, Colleen looked at him with hate-filled eyes. "Good. I hope he kills that son of a bitch!" she spat.

Hotch didn't try to mask the anger he felt. "What did you say?"

"I hope that son of a bitch Rossi rots in hell!" Then her eyes rolled up in her head as she released a breath.

"Oh God!" JJ exclaimed. "I think she's having a heart attack!" Holstering her weapon, she knelt down beside the unconscious woman. "Release the handcuffs and call for EMS," she ordered. Once the cuffs were removed, she and Reid tried to assess the situation while the 9-1-1 call was placed.

Standing vigilant, Hotch watched the scene unfold in front of him. There was no way he could explain this to Strauss and make it sound normal.

Taking in JJ administering chest compressions while Reid checked for a pulse, Hotch hoped that Dave was having better luck than they were.


	14. Chapter 14

I don't know who to feel sorrier for: Dave and Mischa, or the team. Well, Hotch is going to get his deathbed confession if it's the last thing he does...and it very well might be. I hope you don't mind that I focused on Hotch for this chapter. But I hope more than anything, I captured him and who he is. Please let me know if I succeeded.

I don't own Criminal Minds because I could never intentionally hurt Dave...or the team.

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

Hotch was desperate for any news on Colleen Fontaine's condition. Two hours after accompanying her in the ambulance, the doctors were still mum on the outlook.

It had taken everything he had to coolly place a phone call to Strauss and update her with the case status. Three minutes and more cuss words than he thought possibly existed later; he finally got a word in edgewise. Calming her down, Hotch explained what happened upon arrival to the residence and how no one was aware of Colleen Fontaine's current health problems.

Hanging up the phone at the desk, Hotch walked over to where JJ was sitting. "Any word on Reid?" he asked taking a seat beside the liaison who was busily texting Garcia. Once Colleen was loaded into the ambulance, Hotch had ordered Reid to go thru the house and find anything that could point to where Dave and Mischa were being held.

"So, far Reid has found items connecting the two to Rossi's abduction, but nothing that would help us locate him."

"Tell Garcia to tell him to keep looking. Even if they have to turn that house upside down, something is there that will tell us where Dave is."

JJ dutifully typed the message. Glancing quickly at Hotch, JJ let Garcia know she had to go and would be back shortly.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"This case," Hotch replied.

JJ nodded. "Not the fact that Dave and Emily went behind your back and got married?"

"It was wrong of them."

"How is it wrong that they found love and wanted to be with one another? Or is it that they by-passed the FBI regs that state marriage between a senior and junior agent in the same department in clearly forbidden?"

"They broke the rules."

JJ gave a slight chuckle. "When has David Rossi ever followed the regs?"

"This was different."

"Hotch, it wasn't as though he was having an illicit affair with a co-worker; he did the right thing this time…albeit he went about it the wrong way. But there is nothing punishable about falling in love and wanting to be happy."

Hotch stared ahead. He remembered holding Emily in his arms as she wept after he broke the news that Dave had been abducted. The sadness, the grief…it all came out as her body shook with sobs, and he had held her so tight. He tried to imagine what Dave would have done in his place. Then he shook his head as a memory of Hailey flashed thru his brain and the look she gave him back in the early days of their marriage -before life and the FBI got in the way…before The Reaper took everything away in an instant.

He was jealous. He was jealous of Dave because he had found his reward of love and happiness…albeit it was with a fellow agent, but honestly could he have found any one more perfect? Cut from the same cloth emotionally and mentally, proud and determined to prove themselves to anyone no matter the cost, and buck the system if politics got in the way…Emily was the perfect balance for a man like David Rossi.

And Emily…she was everything Hotch had wished Hailey could have been: determined, strong, loyal and non-judgmental. He wondered if Hailey had ever wept over him like Emily did for Dave. He couldn't imagine her shedding a tear for him. Maybe at the beginning, but toward the end, he knew she blamed him. Hailey made what he did personal; Emily made what happened to Dave business; she couldn't afford to make it personal.

"I think you're jealous," JJ continued.

"I think….maybe you're right," Hotch confessed quietly.

Taken aback at his confession, JJ tried to find the right words. In all the years she had worked with Aaron Hotchner, not once could she recall such an open confession. "How are you going to tell Strauss?"

"I'm not. I figure it's their secret to tell, and when the time is right, they'll let everyone know. Of course that doesn't mean that the journey to hell is going to be any less painful."

JJ gave him a soft smile. "We're taking bets that Strauss is going to blow a brain cell."

Hotch felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. "I hope I'm there." What his team did was wrong, but… _Stop it, Aaron! _He chastised himself. But what he would give to see Erin Strauss swallow her tongue for once. It would serve her right.

A doctor approached them. Standing up, Hotch made the introductions and asked about Colleen's status.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the doctor didn't try to mask his features with neutrality. "I'm not going to sugar coat it; it's bad. From what I gather, she has had heart problems in the past and was on a combination of Procardia, Mavik, and Percodan. Initial blood tests indicate a high level of drugs in her system."

"You think she deliberately overdosed?" Hotch asked.

"I'm saying that she knew the right combination to take to make her heart stop."

"Is she conscious?"

"Yes," the doctor replied reluctantly. He knew his patient was the chief suspect in several abductions and murders and the FBI wanted her to divulge information to the possible whereabouts of one their agents. But she was still a patient with medical problems that did not need to be exacerbated by pissed off federal agents.

"May we talk to her?" Hotch knew Colleen had the answers and he was well aware that the doctor would stop him from talking to her if it meant she could go into cardiac arrest again. But if she died with the answers to Dave's whereabouts before they could question her and Dave died….he didn't want to think about it.

Sensing what was about to go down, JJ quickly sent a text to Garcia to have her put Strauss on stand-by.

"I know what this is about Agent Hotchner and I'm really not for you berating a dying patient. But at the same time, I have two daughters and if something had happened to them and someone held the answers… anyway; I can give you five minutes."

Inwardly, Hotch relaxed. "Thank you." Following the doctor to the CCU, he waited for the curtain to be pulled back before stepping into the small confined space. The sound of a heart monitor and BP machine indicated that at the moment the main suspect was stable.

Standing over Colleen, Hotch took in her tight features. He had stopped trying to figure out what made people tick. After Foyet, he had given up trying to understand what made people hold on to a level of hate so intense that it consumed their every waking moment.

"Colleen!" Hotch demanded. Slowly her eyes opened to look at him. "I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. We met earlier. Do you remember?" At her nod, he continued. "Are you the mother of Carter Fontaine?" Another nod. "Do you know where he took Agent David Rossi?"

No response. Instead she closed her eyes and turned her head away. Hotch felt the anger swell. No matter what Dave did or didn't do, it was no excuse for the horrible hell she and her son had committed against their victims.

"I'm asking nicely; where is David Rossi?"

Sighing, she opened her eyes and glared at him with hatred. "In hell," she whispered.

"I got that earlier. Why?"

"He killed Jamie. He lied and Jamie died as a result."

"Agent Rossi didn't lie and he didn't kill James Gifford. Gifford made his own bed without any help," Hotch corrected.

"Jamie was framed."

"And you think that Agent Rossi was the one who framed him."

"He destroyed my family."

"You didn't have a family," Hotch countered. "You were in a mental hospital impregnated by a serial killer."

"Jamie didn't mean to kill those women; that bastard framed him for his own profit. He wrote a book and made millions while my Jamie lay dead by his hand."

"Agent Rossi was in Quantico when the trial happened; he had nothing to do with the trial and sentencing."

"He hired that whore to frame Jamie."

Hotch hesitated. Although he didn't totally agree with the methods Dave and the investigators used at the time, he understood the hows and whys that the situation had called for. "She had nothing to do with Gifford killing those women. She was used to bring him in, but it was his choice to walk away. Gifford made his choice, now you need to make your choice. Tell me where Agent Rossi and the woman are."

Colleen closed her eyes and turned her head away.

"Please. For once, do the right thing. I understand that you hate Agent Rossi, but why are you taking it out on innocent women? You do realize that when the FBI catches up with your son, they will kill him. The word has been given to shoot on sight. He will not survive and all you have tried to accomplish will be for nothing. Is that something you can live with?"

One tear escaped to run down her cheek. Hotch could feel the fight inside of her. He just hoped that the good fight won…for Dave's sake.

"If you want David Rossi to pay for killing Gifford, wouldn't it better serve your revenge to have it done in a court of law? Let the law do its job and make him pay that way than to make an innocent woman pay the price. You've been the innocent woman done wrong…you know how it feels; please do the right thing," Hotch pleaded in a tight voice. It was all he could do not to yell at her and shake her silly, but the moment called for decorum.

"If you want to see David Rossi pay for his crimes, you have to tell me where I can find him to arrest him. If Carter kills him before he can go to trial, people will remember him as an innocent man killed by an angry son bent on revenge. But if I can arrest him, the world will know the crimes he committed."

"You FBI people stand together when it comes to one of your own," Colleen whispered. "You'll let him go. He'll never be punished."

"Colleen, I'm a prosecutor; I know the law. If David Rossi broke the law, I will have to prosecute him -FBI agent or not. I'm under oath here, but I have to find him. Tell me where he is."

Slowly, she turned her head to look at Hotch. For the first time since he walked into the cubicle, hope shined in her eyes. "You'll protect my boy?"

"If I can find him, I will do all I can to make sure that nothing happens to him."

"He's not a bad boy."

"I understand. Where is he?"

"He's…" Colleen gasped for breath. "He's…" Her eyes rolled up in her head. Suddenly the heart monitor alarm sounded as a crash cart was rushed in. Unable to fathom the scene in front of him, Hotch watched as the doctors tried to shock Colleen back to life.

He barely felt the nurse push him outside and close the drapes. Stupidly he stood still and waited as he heard the noises on the other side. He barely felt JJ come up beside him.

The seconds ticked by so excruciatingly slow.

Suddenly the sounds stopped and the curtain parted. A doctor stepped out and walked over to Hotch and JJ.

"I'm sorry but we lost her," the doctor apologized and walked away.

Hotch felt the fight leave his body. This wasn't happening. They had been so close to saving Dave and Mischa and now… What was he going to tell Strauss? What was he going to tell Emily? Blankly he looked at the cubicle and then at JJ. He tried to speak, but couldn't.

"Hotch," JJ began. "I got hold of Garcia. She said that Reid found cell number with a Virginia area code. We believe that it's to a phone Carter Fontaine was using to contact his mother. Garcia traced the number to a couple of towers and narrowed down the location that Dave and Mischa could be at. Strauss wants us back in Quantico to formulate a plan."

Hotch thought over JJ's news about the cell phone revelation. "Is Garcia sure about the towers?"

"If I had to guess I would say she's 98 percent sure."

Hotch gave one last glance at the curtain that hid Colleen Fontaine's body. She, like Gifford, had made her bed and could lie in it. Now Carter was going to face the same fate.

"Contact Reid and tell him that we will be there to pick him up shortly," Hotch ordered, fully back in the role of Unit Chief. "Then contact Strauss and tell her what happened. Stress to her that Colleen overdosed."

JJ furiously sent a text to Garcia as she rushed to keep up with Hotch's pace.


	15. Chapter 15

_It's all coming to a head. Colleen may have died and taken her secret with her, but Hotch won't give up. And neither will Dave who will get inspiration from the unlikeliest of sources. Strauss makes an ironic judgment call, and the missing clue is discovered on both sides. Sorry if this chapter is longer than usual, but I wanted to try and wrap everything up before going on to the climatic end._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

Dave thought his head was going to explode. He wasn't sure how long the punches and kicks were thrown, but this was the one time he prayed for unconsciousness. But he had made a promise to Mischa to do what he could to take the attention off of her. This had nothing to do with her; the fight was between him and the bastard scumbag of a serial killer scumbag…a dead serial killer scumbag.

Dave took another blow and thanked his lucky stars the UNSUB hadn't noticed that his hands were in front. Considering the way the past week had been Dave was thankful for the little things. Now that Mischa was unresponsive, he had to wait this out to do what he could to get them out of this place.

Face down in the dirt, Dave felt the kick to his ribs and then peace. In the distance a door slammed and they were finally alone.

He figured he had a little time to gather his wits and formulate an escape plan. It was going to have to be a great one with no room for error since they had both gone days with out food and had sustained numerous injuries. Then to add in that he had no idea where they were…everything had to fall into place or they were both dead.

"Mischa?" Dave called out. Every muscle and bone in his body hurt, but he was more worried about her. He had heard her body being thrown on the ground before the beating. Usually she wept during the beatings but there had been no sound from her.

Using every bit of strength, Dave pushed himself to his knees and crawled over to where Mischa's still form lie. Gently he shook her.

"Mischa," he whispered. "Mischa, answer me su piccola." He leaned close. Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive. How, he had no idea, but that meant there was no time to waste; they had to get the hell out of there!

Cautiously, he tried to stand up but found himself unable. Slowly he crawled over to one of the walls and tried to use that to steady himself. Twice he fell down and twice he cursed everything from the UNSUB to the zip-tie manufacturers.

Lying on the dirt floor, listening to Mischa's ragged breathing, Dave thought about the time when the Matkosky Family had tied him up. Six hours in the trunk of a Cadillac had cleared up a lot of life's questions and made him determined that no one would ever decide his fate. After freeing himself, he had had a meeting with John Gotti and explained that he wouldn't be able to help out any longer; he was going into the Marines.

He might get shot by the enemy, but at least he wouldn't wind up dead in the back of a Cadillac. Though he did pride himself on learning that Caddies did in fact have plush carpeting in the trunk. And sweet surround sound. It was no wonder his first car was a Cadillac.

As he left John Gotti's office that evening, his heart broke that things had come down to living or dying, but John had left him with a word of advice: _"Stand your ground; when you take the beating for a friend, you don't run, you don't lay down, you don't betray who you are. What you are." _And then with a blessing, Dave was let go.

Gotti's advice followed Dave through out his life. Now was the time he needed to find out who and what he was made of since push was desperately coming to shove.

Leaning against the wall for support, Dave eased himself up inch by excruciating inch until he was at his full height. The world was rocking, the stars were bursting, but he was free…sort of. Now he had to find something to cut the plastic. Hopping along the wall, he searched blindly for a nail, a ragged edge…something, anything...

And then he felt it -a bent nail. They were saved. Feeling in the dark, Dave started sawing thru his bindings.

* * *

"How the hell does the main suspect in an abduction case turn up dead?" Erin Strauss ranted at Hotch. "How hard is it to enter the house and arrest someone?"

Hotch had been standing in her office for twenty minutes listening to her degrade the BAU for dropping the ball on the Hinkley/Rossi case. A part of him wanted so desperately to give it back in ten-fold, but the Unit Chief in him decided it was just easier to roll with the punches. She would eventually come up for air, and when she did….

"Agent Hotchner, I asked you a question," Strauss snapped.

"We believe that either her brother alerted her or she was waiting for us. Either way, she was dead the moment she swallowed those pills. There was nothing we could have done to change one thing. The drive was a little over an hour and we completed it in forty minutes. I think we have nothing to be sorry for."

"You should have monitored the calls."

"The brother lives in Raytown; we would have had to drive to the other side of town to do so. And there is no guarantee he wouldn't have placed the call before we got there. My team is good…maybe even great, but we are not super heroes. And I don't appreciate you cutting me down in front of them. They have been busting their asses since the first woman showed up, so don't you sit there in your director's chair and complain about how they 'dropped the ball'. If you want this case solved, then with all due respect, do it yourself."

For a long moment, neither Hotch nor Strauss spoke. The air, tight and taut with electricity snapped as the two stared each other down in the ultimate battle of wills.

Eventually, Strauss looked away. Flipping open the manila folder, she scanned the sheets Garcia had emailed over from the hospital. Setting her glasses on her nose, she primly looked down and then up at Hotch.

"From what the doctor's report states, Colleen Fontaine had heart disease and was on the transplant list. It also says that even if she hadn't overdosed, she probably would have gone into cardiac arrest and never survived an interrogation at the police station." Strauss closed the file and removed her glasses.

"I guess this means your team is off the legal hook….again. I don't know what you've been learning from Agent Rossi, but I have half a mind to suspend him when he gets back."

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "For what reason?"

"At this point, I don't care; I'll find something he's guilty of. At least get him out of my hair, out of the building and away from the team for a while."

Hotch felt his composure slipping and it was all he could do to stop from laughing out loud. With a straight face, he asked Strauss: "Will that be all, Director?"

"Yes. Now leave my office."

Hotch closed the door behind him and leaned against it as a silent laugh shook his body. "Be careful what you wish for Director," he whispered.

* * *

Dave was desperate. He wasn't sure how long he had been sawing at the plastic, but he was sure it should have happened by now.

He had tried cursing, praying, even saying the Rosary, but nothing seemed to work. The one time he got captured the UNSUB had to use industrial strength zip-ties.

With sweat pouring down his body, Dave leaned his head against the wall and tried to catch his breath. This was ridiculous. Where was the team? What was the clue they were looking for? What was the clue he was looking for? He didn't care as he closed his eyes and started to drift off. Suddenly he was brought back around by a dog barking incessantly.

"Quiet Mudgie!" he ordered in his hallucination. The dog kept barking. "Mudgie, didn't you hear me?"

Snapping his eyes open, Dave realized that he wasn't hallucinating; there really was a dog barking in the distance. That meant they weren't out in the middle of nowhere. It was possible that someone saw something.

Then it dawned on him why the description Mischa gave him was so familiar: Colleen Fontaine, the sister of the photographer who took the final shot of the evening. Colleen had had a brief affair with Gifford and produced a son. He had always thought Colleen was something out of a horror movie with her white blonde hair and black eyebrows. Now it seemed as though her son had inherited her looks. And his father's thirst for blood and revenge. What a helluva combination.

Dave thought hard as he racked his brains. _What was that little bastard's name? Colin? Corey? That's it: Carter._

Now Dave understood the comment about profiting off his father's memory and letting him and his mother suffer in poverty. Too bad the little shit didn't know what a son of a bitch his father really was. There were some things he had to leave out of the book because his editor thought it was a little over the top. But Dave was a little more than willing to fill Carter in.

That was all it took for him to get his second wind. There was no way he was going to let Gifford rule him from the grave. He was tired of running.

With everything he had, Dave kept sawing until he felt the plastic start to break. It was cutting more into his wrists and the pain was beyond incredible, but when he felt the snap, Dave all but cheered. One hurdle down, only three more to go.

Sitting on the dirt floor, he started fiddling with the zip-tie's slide around his ankles. Eventually he got the right pressure and loosed it enough to bring his legs out. Hail Mary, he was free!

Bowing his head, he said a quick prayer of thanks then he rushed over to Mischa. Shaking her gently, he called to her. But there was no response.

He tried again. He had to make her wake up and help him get her out of there. Slapping her cheeks lightly, Dave called her name over and over until he heard a moan.

"Dave?" she asked faintly.

"Yes. I kept my promise; I'm free. I'm going to get you out of here."

"Thank you," she whispered and passed out.

Dave sat back on his heels and felt dry, silent sobs shake his body. Two hurdles down. Now he had to wait for the right moment.

Sitting against the wall that had been his resting place, Dave leaned his head back and tried to recover his strength. Carter Fontaine wanted to kill him for murdering his scumbag father; well David Rossi had gone up against worse in his fifty-five years of life and survived. He would be waiting when the little bastard attacked again. And this time Dave was sure that it would be his last time.

* * *

Hotch heard the slight knock on his door. Without looking up, he answered: "Come in."

Emily Prentiss-Rossi stepped inside and closed the door. "Hi Hotch. Do you have a few minutes?"

Hotch stood up. "Sure. Have a seat." Waiting for her to sit, he took the edge of the desk. "What's wrong?"

Emily tried to meet his eyes and failed. Nervously, she looked at her hands. "I want to tell you how sorry I am for what happened between me and Dave. We never meant for all of this to happen."

Hotch gave her his famous stare. "That doesn't change what you did. Both of you could have jeopardized the BAU."

"I understand. You have every right to suspend me, but please don't suspend Dave."

"Unfortunately, that is out of my hands. I just came from Strauss's office and she made it clear that once Dave is back, he is officially suspended."

Prentiss looked at him with fear. "Does she know?"

Hotch shook his head. "No. Seems she is blaming me for our suspect dying in custody, so she is punishing Dave." Emily looked at him with surprise. Hotch gave a short bitter laugh. "Looks like you might be able to get your belated honeymoon after all."

Emily stared at him speechless. Dave was being punished because their suspect overdosed? She knew Strauss had an immense hatred for Hotch and Dave, but even she was flummoxed by how deep it ran.

A knock on the door made them both turn around as JJ walked in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just received a phone call from someone claiming to be a neighbor of Carter Fontaine's."

"What did they say?"

JJ looked at her notes. "The neighbor claims that a man fitting Carter Fontaine's description has been seen leaving his house at weird times of the day and night. Three nights ago a neighbor heard screaming coming from the house but by the time he got up to investigate, it was over."

Hotch let the information soak in. "Anything else?"

"Yes, it seems that our suspect has acquired a black Chinese Pug with a purple harness. The neighbor says the dog barks all day and night and he's been tempted to call the pound."

"Didn't the Hinkley's have a black Chinese Pug with a purple harness disappear a week ago?" Prentiss asked and stood up. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought she might pass out.

JJ looked at her and smiled. "Yes they did."

Hotch jumped up from the desk. "Do you have an address?"

"420 Raven Cliff Point."

Hotch rushed for the door. "JJ, get the team together and notify SWAT that we are going to need back-up and medical personnel on the scene." Turning to Prentiss he said, "You know what I said about making this personal; I mean it."

Prentiss squared her shoulders and held her chin up. "You have my word."

"I have to brief the Director." Hotch sped from the room. JJ looked at Prentiss quizzically.

"What the hell did that mean?"

Prentiss shrugged. "Dave and I going to have a long overdue honeymoon when all of this is over."

JJ only nodded.


	16. Chapter 16

_Well, the giant climax is about to go down as Carter gets some bad news about his mother and father from some very unlikely sources. Will Dave hang on before help arrives or will he take the lessons from the Cadillac incident and use it to his advantage? One more chapter after this. By the way, Strauss gets hers!_

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

Carter Fontaine sat looking out his kitchen window at nothing in particular. The phone ringing earlier that morning had come as a shock, especially when the voice on the other end wasn't his mother. He had planned on calling her yesterday, but he had gotten distracted by his toys in the cellar.

His first action was to ask the person how they had obtained his number when the voice cut in that they needed to inform him that his mother had passed away at Topeka General yesterday afternoon.

Unable to comprehend the words, he thought it had to be some sort of sick joke. He had spoken to his mother two days earlier to let her know that he had David Rossi in his possession and he was going to clear his father's memory. His mother had seemed so excited. Finally, things were working in their favour.

But the voice continued that his mother had indeed passed away from a heart attack. Going thru her personal effects they had found her phone and dialed the numbers listed to find the next of kin.

Carter tried to respond but he couldn't find the correct words to say. As the voice continued on about making funeral arrangements and paperwork, he had shut them down. Hitting 'End' on his cell, he sat and tried to think.

His mother was dead? A tear broke loose and ran down his cheek, followed by another as uncontrollable sobs racked his body. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true; they were supposed to finish this together. Emitting a guttural cry from deep down inside, he stood up and flipped the table over. The crash only fueled his temper and grief.

Ripping the doors off the cupboards, he threw dishes and anything else his hands could get hold of; he was mad with anger and revenge.

As the refrigerator landed with a loud thud, Carter stopped still and listened. One person was responsible for this…one person who had started this many years ago as he watched his father die by the lethal injection he requested. David Rossi.

Wiping the tears away with the back of his hand, Carter walked over to the cellar door and yanked it open. David Rossi had killed the only man his mother had ever loved and then had the audacity to reap the rewards by writing about how he framed and killed an innocent man. Now his mother was dead, and it was all _David Rossi's fault._

That bastard had started it, now it was time to end it. When he was through, only one person was going to emerge alive and it sure as hell wasn't going to be a lying, cheat of a killer.

* * *

"Hotch!" Garcia called. "I dialed that number you gave me, and it is most definitely for Carter Fontaine."

"What did you tell him Garcia?"

"Only what you told me; I was calling from Topeka General to inform him that his mother had passed away from a heart attack."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. That was the scary part. I was expecting denial or tears or…something. But he didn't say anything."

"Did you trace the call?"

"Almost impossible to do Boss since he was on a cell, but I pretty much pinpointed the location as the one JJ has- give or take a couple of blocks."

"Thanks Garcia." Hotch ended the call. Turning to the team, he looked them over. "I guess you heard."

"With that kind of news, he has to be in shock," Prentiss acknowledged.

"Which means he could snap at any time," Morgan observed and glanced at his partner. But her face was emotion free. Nothing- not even a blink to indicate that she had a stake in this outcome. It almost scared him to see her so detached. Perhaps it had to do with being raised in the world of political protocol- one did not just wear their heart on their sleeve.

_Dave, your sorry ass better be alive or else I'm going to kill you myself, _Morgan vowed.

"We are going over with the SWAT. There is no telling what kind of arsenal he might have, so we have to approach with caution."

"What if the hostages are dead?" the SWAT commander asked. Morgan turned around and glared at him.

"It's been over 80 hours since the last abduction and no body has been recovered which leads us to believe that our suspect is still holding them hostage. That is why we must treat this as hostage rescue."

"We have an order to 'shoot on sight'," the SWAT commander reminded Hotch.

"If you have the suspect in your sights, then take the shot; we are still going to do what we can to get the hostages out. Any questions?" Hotch asked.

"Are we going in silent or on alert?"

Hotch thought for a quick second. "Silent. I want to catch him by surprise." Climbing in the SUV with Prentiss and JJ, he put the vehicle in drive and pulled out. Morgan and Reid followed, by the SWAT team.

* * *

Dave heard the footsteps on the wooden steps and pulled his arms behind his back. It might leave him at a disadvantage initially, but he had to let Carter Fontaine believe he still had the advantage.

"Wake up you son of a bitch," Carter growled. Dave tilted his head forward and looked at his captor. Carter started pacing. "You killed both of them!"

Dave tried to make sense of the statement but came up empty.

"You weren't satisfied with killing him; you had to kill her too."

Then it dawned on Dave that Colleen must have died. That news should have thrilled him, but instead it filled him with more dread; Carter could snap at any second. Dave needed to keep focused on any change in tone.

"It's all your fault," Carter growled.

"How do you figure?" Dave replied for the first time since he was captured and thrown down in a fruit cellar sans fresh air, sunshine nor food.

"You killed my father. Then you wrote that book and made millions while my mother and I scraped by on food stamps and charity. You owe me."

"What do I owe you?" Dave was taunting him, but he was through with being nice. That worthless bastard deserved nice like James Lee Gifford deserved a last meal.

"Everything!" Carter thundered. "You took everything away from me! I suffered because of you!"

"Well isn't that too bad?" Dave spat. "We all make choices in life and it seems you and your mother made the wrong ones. You really think killing me is going to bring back that scumbag loser of a sperm donor you lovingly refer to as a father? Do you think raping that young woman repeatedly is going to some how miraculously transform you in to a man? Think again!"

Both men stared at one another as their heavy breathing filled the room.

"You want to know who you father really was? I'll be more than happy to tell you. He was a loser who cut a lucky break in the military and then pissed away everything Uncle Sam gave him. He was into LSD, cocaine, and couldn't get it up to save his life so he took it out on women. His first marriage ended when his wife went into hiding to save herself. That is when the killings started.

"His fourth kill, Jennifer Salazar, was his second worse cruelty. After he finished raping her seven ways to Sunday, he shoved a beer bottle inside of her and punctured her uterus from which she bled to death. Horribly, painfully…you don't know pain until you puncture an organ and bleed to death."

Dave let Carter digest that before continuing.

"His sixth victim, Martina Paisley, was fourteen. He snatched her on her way to the PX and held her for a week while he beat, raped, and sodomized her. Then when he was done, he hog-tied her and left her to die on a fire ant mound. When we found her…" Dave trailed off as the memory of Martina flashed thru his memory. He could still hear the screams and cries of her parents as the police delivered the news of their only daughter.

"As for how you came along," Dave supplied. "Gifford was hard up for meds. While he was working in the mental hospital, he latched on to your mother. She was horny and he needed a fix. I guess that's the one time he successfully got it up and kept it up because damn if the product of the barter isn't standing in front of me now."

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Carter screamed. "Shut it before I shut it for you! You don't know anything about my mother and now you helped kill her! I hope you rot in hell!"

"Perhaps, but I have the feeling one of us is going to get there before the other."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if I have to make a journey to hell, I'm not doing it alone." And with that, Dave rushed forward and grabbed Carter around the knees and brought him down. He had one shot to get it right, and Dave hit and punched as though his life depended on it.

Carter had the advantage of strength and height, but Dave had a strong will to live and determination on his side. Plus more hate than even Carter Fontaine could imagine.

Blow after blow Dave delivered until Carter threw one that knocked Dave down. Feeling the world spinning, Dave tried to hold on to consciousness as the kicks flew at his chest and side. Reaching out, he blindly grabbed for his opponent's ankle and yanked.

Carter hit the ground hard and felt the wind being knocked from his lungs. Unable to breathe, he desperately swung at Dave- missing more than he connected- until he found Dave's face and tried to dig his thumbs into his eye sockets.

The pain was excruciating and it was all Dave could do to hold on for dear life as Carter's thumbs gouged his eyes. Unable to see, unable to breathe, and unable to think, Dave grasped hold of his enemy's neck and squeezed with everything he had.

Tighter and tighter his hands wrapped as visions of Gifford's victims flashed in front of his eyes along with the current victims and Mischa's screams still rang in his ears.

With every last bit of strength Dave held on as Carter scratched, clawed and bucked for survival. But Dave's need to live and rescue Mischa, and see Emily and the team was stronger and more powerful than a punk ass wannabe serial killer with a revenge agenda.

Eventually Carter stopped moving. Counting to ten, Dave slowly released his hands from around the limp man's neck. Listening carefully, Dave sighed out loud as he realized Carter was dead. It was over. They could leave now.

But he was wiped out. He needed to rest before he went searching for help. Closing his eyes, he prayed that the team would find them soon.

* * *

Tires screeched to a stop on the hot asphalt as FBI, SWAT and local law enforcement pulled up to the Fontaine residence. Jumping out, the teams took their positions around the house and yard while an officer ran forward and grabbed the dog out of potential harm's way.

"Agent Hotchner," relayed the SWAT commander. "I hear noises coming from inside the house. Should we rush it?"

"Negative. Do you see any one?" Hotch replied.

"That's a negative…wait! I think someone is coming to the front door."

"Hold your positions!" Hotch demanded. "He's holding hostages." For a long heartbeat everyone held their breath. Then slowly the front door opened.

"Hold your fire! Federal Agent! Hold your fire!" Dave shouted.

"Come out with your hands up!" Hotch shouted thru the bull horn.

"I can't quite do that Hotch because I'll drop Mischa."

Dropping their positions, Hotch and Morgan waved for a stand down as they rushed to help their friend. Gently they cradled the injured woman as the SWAT commander called for medics. While they tended to the unconscious woman, Dave heavily sat down on the porch and tried to make sense of what was transpiring.

"Dave, are you okay?" Hotch asked while taking in his friend's bruised and battered face. He could only imagine what the rest of Dave looked like if his face looked like hell.

"I-I'm fine," Dave replied weakly.

"Where's Carter Fontaine?" Morgan asked.

"Rotting in hell in the cellar. Don't worry; I saved the tax payers a ton in appeals and child support payments." No one had to ask what that meant. Two police officers and SWAT, with weapons drawn, made their way into the house to retrieve the dead suspect.

Hotch grabbed Dave under the arm. "Do you think you can walk to the ambulance?"

"Yeah, I think." On trembling legs, Dave tried to stand up, but felt himself go down. Morgan rushed over to help. Carefully, they helped Dave down the steps and pathway to the FBI SUV.

Leaning Dave against Morgan, Hotch walked over to Emily. With nothing to indicate his feelings one way or another, he looked at her and then at Dave. "Remember what I said would happen if you made this personal?"

Swallowing hard, Em tried to gather her senses as she took in Dave's limp form being held up by Morgan. "Yes," she replied.

"Go make it personal," Hotch ordered. Casting a look at the Unit Chief, Em's eyes widened in surprise. Hotch gave her a nod.

As Em walked over to Dave, she tried to hold the tears back. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his battered face. _Oh God! He was alive!_

"Dave," she whispered and cupped his face. The tears she tried to hide broke free and ran down her cheeks.

"Hi Em. I see you're working the case."

"They couldn't stop me if they tried."

"You sound like your mother."

"For once you're right," she choked on a sob. Dave noticed the ring on Em's left hand.

"Are you wearing your ring?"

Em nodded. "Yep, I am."

"So that means they know?"

She nodded again. "Yep."

"Which means we're…" Dave gave a half-smile, half-grimace.

"Officially suspended," Em finished.

"Great. That means I can do this." Grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her in front of the FBI, SWAT, and everyone else who did and didn't matter.

Watching the scene unfold from the SUV, Erin Strauss jumped out of the passenger side and rushed over to Hotch.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "What are they doing?"

Hotch removed his sunglasses and shrugged. "Saying hello, I believe."

"I demand that you order Agent Rossi to stop this instant!"

Hotch turned toward her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. A quirky smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched his friends. "Which one?"


	17. Epilogue

**_Okay, here is the last chapter. Honestly, how in the world can I possibly top what I've already written? It was an amazing journey that I wasn't sure I could complete. Too many times I thought I bit off more than I could chew…until I read the reviews and got my second wind. For anyone who gets confused about where this chapter is heading, the clues are in Chapters 2 and 7. I love to redirect my readers!_**

**_Overall, there are too many people to name in this tiny paragraph to whom I owe a thank-you, debt of gratitude, and a shout out to. So, to everyone who read and reviewed, or read and didn't leave a review (why not?) I thank you from the very bottom of my heart._**

**_This chapter is dedicated to: Tracia, Tonnie, Celia, Julia, and Crystal. Thank you for being you._**

**_Song prompt: No Place Left To Fall by Bill Champlin_**

**_I don't own Criminal Minds. I guess life is just that way sometimes._**

* * *

**No Place Left To Fall**

"Well, how did you like it?" Emily asked as she turned off the ignition and looked at Dave.

_Six weeks had passed since Dave had finally closed the book on one of the worst memories of his career. Between the hospital stay, internal investigation into the Gifford case, and the outward investigation into his killing of Carter Fontaine, Dave tried to take everything one day at a time. And with Emily beside him, he found that he had the ability to face and accept his mistakes and move on._

_During his week long stay at the hospital, Dave received word from Hotch that both he and Emily had been found guilty of violating the FBI regulations and were officially suspended for eight weeks. He was going to have to forfeit his senior team leader status and could never be partnered with Em again, but that was a small price to pay to be able to stay at the BAU._

_The investigation into the claims that Gifford had been framed was a little longer in arriving. Bureaucratic red tape made it almost impossible to obtain the documents to back up the fact that Dave had done everything by the book and although he had lead the initial investigation, he had no determination in the final sentencing. Another hurdle cleared._

_There really shouldn't have been an investigation into Dave self-defense kill of Fontaine, but rules and protocol had to be followed. CYA was in full mode as the report came back in Dave's favour. After IA had taken in the facts concerning Dave and Mischa, it was determined that although the law would have loved to put Fontaine on trial, it had come down to survival. And the last hurdle was cleared._

_Dave didn't mind the suspension. It wasn't his first and probably wouldn't be his last, but at least he got to spend quality time with Emily and Mudgie. Two weeks at the cabin was more than enough to find a reconnection with everything that mattered in his life. He was a lucky man and there was nothing he wouldn't do for the woman of his heart._

_He just wished he had drawn a line in the sand for wedding receptions._

_It wasn't the party that he hated, but the politics. And the hob-nobbing with people he wouldn't associate outside of a banquet hall. But how could he say no to the BAU women? _

_When Emily had approached him that JJ and Garcia wanted to throw them a belated party, he tapped his thumbs together in thought and gave her his famous half-grimace/half-smile. Of course it didn't take much for her to change his mind, and Dave had no reason to argue her point. He figured it was the least he could do to thank the people who made his appearance at the banquet hall possible._

_Overall it was worth it to see Hotch smile and Erin Strauss try to be nice. And even Dave had to admit that even though he and Emily really had no use for a cappuccino maker or a toaster (although the painting of Rodin's 'The Kiss' from Strauss was a show stopper); he realized that surviving the bowels of hell opened his eyes to appreciating the little things in life._

_Secretly Dave made the arrangements to fund Mischa's rehabilitation and recovery. It was the least he could do. He was going to make sure that no matter what she and her family needed, he would be there. He had been given a second chance and now he was paying it forward._

Dave was reflecting on all of this as Emily pulled into the driveway.

"Well, how did you like it?"

"It was very nice. Of course I haven't seen crepe paper bells since 1978, but it lent a unique touch to the banquet hall."

"That was Pen's idea. She wanted the moment to be memorable and different," Emily assured him. Opening the door of the truck, she got out and walked to Dave's door and opened it. She waited for him to grab his cane and helped hoist him to his feet.

"She definitely succeeded," Dave quipped.

"She was trying to make our day special." At his grunt, Emily rolled her eyes. "What can I say? She's in love."

Dave thought about the about the young man from the mail room. "He seems to be a better fit for her than Kevin."

"Well, the I-Pad you gave him to give to Pen definitely helped him cross that bridge."

Dave tried to conceal his surprise. "What? I don't know what…" He saw her raised eyebrow. He shrugged. "Okay; I may have had a little something to do with it. No secrets at the FBI," he muttered.

Slowly he moved aside to close the door. He hated the cane even more than he hated feeling helpless, but if it meant that Emily was touching him, he could live with it. He wondered if he would he ever find that happy balance?

Keeping her hand firmly under his arm, Emily walked him down the pathway to the front door. Taking the key from her pocket, Emily unlocked the front door and disengaged the alarm. Closing the door, she turned in Dave's arms and kissed him.

Slowly, thoroughly she moved her mouth against his as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Dave sighed and deepened the kiss. It was going to take a lifetime to make up for the three days he had been away from her body. That was definitely one task he was looking forward to.

He heard the cane fall to the floor as the floor reverberated the heavy thumping of Mudgie's feet. A second later Dave and Em were treated to the excited welcome home barks and kisses of the beloved black Lab.

Dave would never be able to understand how fifty pounds of fur could carry so power, but he loved Mudgie so the gestures could be forgiven. Still…he wondered how long it was going to take to convince Mudgie that there was no need to sleep with Emily. He wanted to spend quality time with his wife tonight without having to break away to put the dog outside the bedroom and listen to the pitiful wails.

Suddenly he remembered the rump roast in the back of the fridge. Most definitely he was sure that a truce could be called tonight.

Patting Mudgie's head, Dave sniffed the air. It was familiar, yet he was unable to put his finger on what exactly that smell was. "What's that?" he asked.

Bending over, Em retrieved the cane and handed it to him. "It's your welcome home gift."

"Why do I feel like I've been transported to Portland, Oregon at dawn break?"

"Maybe because you have?" Emily replied cryptically and walked out of the room to the kitchen. With deft purpose, Dave followed her.

"Are you going to tell me what you've done?"

Emily stood in front of the kitchen counter. "Honestly? I thought about what I could give a man who has everything, and no matter what I considered, it didn't seem special enough or the meaning fell short of what was in my heart. Then I remembered that morning you yelled at me for not getting coffee. Then with everything that was happening, we both got distracted and it never got bought."

Dave leaned in and kissed her. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"I kicked myself for a long time because I forgot to do one simple thing that led you to do one thing out of character which led to the UNSUB having access to you."

"Em, it wasn't your fault." Dave shook his head as he saw the tears form in her eyes.

"You're right," she replied in a tight voice. "But I decided that I wasn't going to lose you again. So, I got you a gift that should insure you never having to pull over to a Dunkin Donuts again." Stepping aside, she opened the two cupboard doors.

Dave blinked twice to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Coffee! At least three dozen Folgers coffee canisters stared back at him.

"Em…" He didn't know what to say. What could he say?

"Our nightmare started without coffee, and I wanted to change the ending so we never have to relive it again."

Slowly it dawned on him that he _had_ found the perfect balance in his life. He truly was a man who had everything. Cupping her face with his hand, Dave brushed a tear away with his thumb. "Well, that takes the fun out of everything," he commented, his voice low. Em felt a warm thrill go thru her body at his touch on her skin.

"What do you mean?"

"I remember that morning you offered to jump start my heart with something more energizing than caffeine. Now with a cupboard full of java, I guess I won't need those early morning 'pick me ups' anymore."

Emily's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You want to test that theory?"

Dave picked her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. "You have yourself a deal Tesoro."

"Dave, what about your cane?"

"I'll come back for it when I have to make the coffee."

"You're not going to make it now?"

"Nope. Didn't you know that a theory has to be tested numerous times in many different ways to be proven as fact?" Dave growled against her mouth and carried her to the living room. Gently he laid her on the couch and covered her body with his.

"Is that a fact?"

"Got it straight from Reid."

"Ah! So when did the test begin?"

"Five minutes ago." He could barely think with her mouth on his neck. "Would using the couch be considered as 'cheating'?"

"I won't tell if you don't," Emily remarked breathlessly.

"Mum's the word," Dave promised.

Watching the scene, Mudgie blinked and then turned to walk up the stairs to the bedroom. Nudging the door open with his nose, he looked around and then jumped up on the bed. Three full circles before landing with a heavy thump and sigh on the down comforter.

His 'parents' were home. They had the couch. He had the bed.

And life was good.


End file.
